


Red Dead Tumblr Prompts

by the_awkward_outlaw



Series: Red Dead Requests [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Character Death, Death, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Smut, Tumblr Prompt, Violence, cannon arthur, modern arthur
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:55:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 119
Words: 281,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23177302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_awkward_outlaw/pseuds/the_awkward_outlaw
Summary: All of these works are based upon requests and asks I've received on Tumblr. If you'd like to send me an idea, you can send one to me there (username is the-awkward-outlaw) or you can try sending one here and hopefully I will see it.It is highly unlikely that any two pieces will be linked to one another, unless otherwise specified. Each chapter/entry is based upon a request or ask sent in by another member, generally from Tumblr. I will always attach their request or ask, but will not divulge their name for their privacy.Some of these pieces will feature an Arthur set in modern day.Any feedback is greatly appreciated!
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Reader
Series: Red Dead Requests [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1666183
Comments: 265
Kudos: 555





	1. Curvy S/O - modern Arthur

**Author's Note:**

> User asked: Hey ! Could you write an imagine or headcanons about Arthur having a curvy s/o, and she's really self-conscious about it but he just loves her and is really attracted by her curvy body, and he shows it to her ? It's kinda weird but I thought it could be cute 😊

–SFW– 

Arthur loves the fact that you got curves, that your body is wider than other girls. “Them skinny girls?” he says whenever you ask him if he wouldn’t prefer a skinny, pretty girl. “They’re a dime a dozen. Only one o’ you, sweetheart.” He usually follows this by kissing your hand.

Whenever you think you’re not pretty because of your size, he pulls you into a hug and reminds you that beauty has nothing to do with size. He still finds you gorgeous and he tells you so. 

He loves to cuddle with you, especially pulling you onto his lap. You’re constantly nervous about hurting him when doing this, but he insists. When you tell him it would be easier to curl up with a skinnier girl, he shushes you with a kiss and tells you that he wants you because there’s more to love. 

He knows how self conscious you can be about your size. It hurts him to see someone so amazing and beautiful be brought down by something as simple as a number. He tells you that you’re so much more than that. He says if you want to be associated with a number, count the things about yourself you like. He’ll count them for you if you’re struggling to do it. 

He raves about you in front of other people. He does it even more when you’re not around. He tells everyone how lovely he thinks you are. If someone brings up that they think you’re weight makes you less so, he’ll literally fight them. He’d go to war to prove how beautiful he thinks you are. 

He praises you everyday you see each other. It gets to the point where you finally start repeating what he says. Some days, you even have the strength to say, “So what if I’m bigger? My eyes are also this color, and my hair is this color. They don’t define me, they don’t make me who I am.” He loves hearing you say these things out loud. He’ll kiss you so softly and sweetly when you say these things. 

–NSFW–

In the bedroom, Arthur worships your body. 

He’ll undress you slowly and kiss every part of skin as it’s exposed. 

He’ll envelop his large hands around your breasts. He loves the way they fill his hands. 

He’ll slowly trace your sides down to your hips. He finds it all so amazing. 

He likes you to straddle him and ride him. You worry sometimes that you’ll hurt him but he encourages you. “You could never hurt me,” he’ll say and he’ll pull you down for a passionate kiss. 

The sounds he makes when you’re riding him, you could go off just by hearing them. 

He’ll slap your ass if that’s what you like as you bounce on him. He’ll also squeeze your hips, his face reddening because you feel so good in his hands and your walls around his cock. 

When you’re tired of riding him or after your first round, he’ll put you onto your back and then position himself between your legs. 

He likes teasing you, sliding his fingers in your folds and watching you squirm from his touch. 

If you’re into oral, he’ll go down and suck on your clit, licking it every few sucks so tenderly, your toes curl. 

When you’re near the edge, he’ll push his cock into you and pound away, groaning your name until you finally tip over and claw at his back. He always finishes after you. He likes knowing he satisfies you just as much as you satisfy him. 

After-sex cuddling is a must for this cowboy. He likes laying on his back with your head on his chest so his fingers can brush through your hair. He says it’s one of the best things in the world. 

He’ll drift off to sleep with you and he almost always says how much he loves you as your eyes are closing.


	2. Scars don't define you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> User asked: How would Arthur react if gender neutral s/o had some pretty scars on their body and they don’t like talking about them, and or get a bit subconscious about them???

Arthur doesn’t think your scars are hideous or distracting. He thinks they’re just as much a part of you as your hair, the shape of your nose or anything else like that. 

He’s no stranger to scars or other permanent marks left behind by injuries. He’s got plenty himself. Besides the one on his chin, nose and the one in his shoulder from the O’Driscolls, he’s also got a pretty good sized scar on his right calf. He’s hesitant to tell you the story behind it, but after a night of drinking and smooching, he reveals he startled a raccoon one night and it got him. You can hardly contain your laughter. 

Even though he says scars don’t define people. he wants to know how you got each one of yours. He’s a curious man and when it comes to you, the person he loves most, he wants to know everything. 

He’ll laugh at the scars that have a funny story behind them. It makes him feel better about his funny scars. For example, he tells everyone the scars on his chin are the result of a drunken bar fight that he won against a particularly large man. He admits that he really got them when his foot got stuck in his stirrup and he faceplanted into the ground, his chin meeting a rock. 

If your scars are self inflicted, it’ll break his heart to hear how you did them, but he doesn’t think less of you. He’ll pull you into a bone crushing hug. He’ll gently trace the scars with his fingertips, soothing the old pains that come from them. He’ll trace his lips against them too. He wants you to know how much he loves you, even your dark parts. 

If your scars are from a traumatic accident or surgery, he says they’re physical signs to the world about how life tried to break you and failed. He showers you with affection and loves how tough you are. 

When you’re feeling conscious about them, particularly any that are easy to see by strangers, he wants you to wear them proudly. He says you wouldn’t hide your ears or your lips or your eyes because they might be different. “Different doesn’t mean bad,” he says. 

If someone makes a remark about your scars, especially if there’s a negative meaning behind it, he’ll defend you and tell them off. Depending on the remark, he’ll start pointing out the parts of their bodies that mark them out, demanding they see how good they feel about themselves afterwards. 

When you’re with Arthur, it’s easy to forget the marks on your body. He makes you feel so whole and normal, it’s almost an addictive feeling. He loves it when you kiss the scar on his chin. 

He’s self conscious about the scar on his shoulder from where he was shot. When you first kissed it during a particularly steamy night, he knew he’d be in love with you forever. 

Just like you showed him with his scars, he wants you to know your scars are just as beautiful as you are. He wouldn’t have you any other way.


	3. Pokemon AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Can have PokémonAU? How Would Arthur react if his crush had sweet adorable Eevee and Glaceon love spending time with him, cuddle with by the fire and play his Pokémon???

**Author's note: You’ll have to forgive me if this is complete trash. I’ve never been in to Pokemon so this was new water for me. 

When Arthur first met you, he thought you were just an average person. Pretty, and he liked you almost immediately (not that he’d admit it any time soon of course). 

After knowing you for a couple of weeks, he saw your Eevee come trotting up to you. He thought it was some kind of weird dog he’d never seen before. Until your Glaceon joined your side. Figuring he must need to sleep or had eaten something weird, he left abruptly to get some rest. 

When he returned after that though and saw your little companions, he knew he wasn’t hallucinating. 

He was nervous at first. He didn’t know if they were friendly or if they had poisonous/venemous properties. You had to reassure him multiple times that day that they were very friendly. Like dogs, they’d only attack if they felt you or themselves were threatened. 

Arthur was hesitant to pet them, particularly your Glaceon. Your Eevee warmed up to him right away, wanting to curl up in his lap and go to sleep. Arthur finally relented and sat down on the ground to allow your Eevee to do so. But when the Glaceon came over, wanting the same, he was nervous. “Why’s it blue?” he asked. You had to explain that they were naturally blue. You wanted to explain the evolutions of Eevees but felt that would be better for when he got a little more used to them. 

He finally plucked up the courage to touch your Glaceon. He remarked how the fur was soft but cool. You explained it had magical abilities too, and could form ice crystals. You list its other abilities. He asks if the Eevee can do anything special too. That’s when you tell him about the evolutions. 

Intrigued, Arthur wants to find the other forms of Eevees, but you tell him the complicated process of doing so. 

After a few more weeks of being around you and your companions, he can’t deny he’s sweet on you. He’s started viewing your “pets” (he calls them) as like your dogs. 

One of his favorite things to do when he’s visiting, particularly after doing something difficult for Dutch and the gang, is coming to your place and sitting by the fire to play with your pets. He loves cuddling with them too. But more than that, he wishes he could cuddle with you even more. 

Every time he sees you, he tells himself this will be the time he asks to hold you or kiss you, but every time he chickens out and tells himself off. 

He’s pretty sure you’ve got something for him too. It’s just the way you smile whenever he comes to visit, the way your eyes light up. How easily you blush when either of you brush upon a personal subject. He finds it adorable. 

There was one night when he was visiting. He’d been absent for the longest period of time and you’d been worrying about him. He was fine, he was just doing his best to pick up the courage to finally kiss you. He’d been unusually quiet and even distant from your pets. He stood by the fire and you asked him what was wrong. He tried speaking but his voice seemed to be gone. Finally, he just grabbed you and pulled you in for a kiss. It was extremely brief and he was redder than you’d ever seen him.

He was extremely apologetic. He wouldn’t stop rambling about how much of a fool he was or how you must surely not see him the same way. You stopped him by kissing him back. It was much more passionate than the first. He wove his hands in your hair and you stayed connected for so long that your Glaceon came in and filled the room with his cool breath as if to say you were getting too steamy. 

Arthur chuckled and made you go beat red when he whispered in your ear, “Imagine what he’ll do the first time we go for a roll in the bedroom.”


	4. Jealous Arthur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Can you write some jealous Arthur headcanons he might feel over his s/o interacting with the other men in the gang or whatever?

It’s no secret this man has a low self esteem. He constantly doubts himself, his goodness, his selflessness. You’ve been together for quite some time and you have to constantly remind him how amazing you think he is. 

He makes remarks sometimes that irk you. Things like you’d be better off with someone else, someone better. You always tell him you wouldn’t have anyone besides him. Sometimes it’s obvious he doesn’t believe you. 

You’ve been with the gang for some months and Arthur noticed easily that not long after you joined, a lot of the other men would stare at you the same way he did. A few weeks after you joined, he heard John and Sean making some small remarks about you. They were harmless and definitely didn’t mean they were planning on making a move, but he felt angry about it nonetheless. He and John weren’t on good terms anyways, but hearing them only made things worse. 

When you first got involved with Arthur, he wanted to keep it a secret. He claimed it was because he wanted to have you to himself for a while before sharing the knowledge. You knew he was lying and it was because he was afraid what the others might say and that he believed you’d be better off with one of them instead. 

During those few weeks when it was a secret, Arthur tended to be particularly hostile towards any of the other men in the gang or even in the streets who got too close or friendly with you. You told him to stop being so angry with them. 

When your secret got out, no one was surprised. They all said they knew you and Arthur were together purely based on the way Arthur acted. Just the way he talked about you or would act when you were around. His increased aggression was a big clue too.

Sean started playing a rather dangerous game (in your opinion) when he would openly flirt with you when Arthur was across camp. He’d watch Arthur scowl and continue flirting. He only stopped playing when you told Sean that Arthur was seriously debating on putting a bullet in his head. 

Sometimes his jealousy’s cute. But other times, it can be a downright pain. You constantly reassure him you won’t be leaving him for any of the other men, that you only want him. It takes weeks of repeating this for him to finally believe you. 

You know his jealousy doesn’t stem from the fear that you’ll cheat on him. It comes from his own belief that he’s not good enough for you. Of course, you have the same doubts about yourself. When you finally admitted that to him, his jealousy lessened considerably and he folded you into his big arms. “You’re more than I ever deserve, darlin’. If I could make the perfect woman, she’d only be half as amazing as you.”


	5. Arthur's French S/O

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> User asked: It's me agaaaain ! I have another request eheheheh SO what about Arthur having a french s/o and making fun of her because of her accent ( but he secretly thinks it's actually sexy ) Thank you 😊❤

When Arthur first met you, like most of the others, he assumed you were from Saint Denis. He wasn’t too fond at first because he felt most people in that grimy, awful city put it on as an act. 

When he found out you actually came from the country and have never even been to Saint Denis, he was surprised. 

He started listening more to your accent and how it was much more relaxed than those frauds in the city. You definitely spoke a lot quicker than them as well. 

He harbored a crush on you for some time and wanted to know what the French customs were for courting. Of course, he asked Hosea and even Strauss for tips. Strauss told him he had better things to do than worry about a young man’s game of courting. Hosea found it funny and gave him some heavily misguided tips, including to offer you snails. Arthur thought he was serious and went and found some, only to be surprised and slightly hurt when you said you didn’t like escargot. 

Uncle tried chipping in on ideas for courting you, blowing out even more ridiculous ideas than Hosea. Arthur tells him to blow it out his ass. 

Hosea finally takes pity on him and tells him to just follow his own intuition and to show you the joys of American courting. 

He ends up just bringing you small gifts and flowers. Of course, by this point, you’re aware of his affections. Enough word has gotten around camp to the point it made its way to you. 

You find it endearing how much work he’s going to just to impress you. As a reward, you kiss him on the cheek and tell him you like him in French. He mumbles, asking what you said. When you tell him, he’s grinning like a child. 

After you’ve been together for some time and have gotten into the rhythms of a relationship, he notices that when you get really mad or irritated, you’ll jabber away in French and do the funniest hand gestures. 

He starts making you mad on purpose just to see you do it. 

When you’re having an intimate moment, not neccesarily making love, but even just cuddling, he loves you muttering things in French in his ear, or even just hearing your accent. He finds it so lovely and sweet.


	6. Arthur on Valentine's Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> User asked: With Valentine's day being tomorrow, how about some headcanons of Arthur being a romantic? P.s: I've loved your fanfic!

If you looked in the dictionary for the term “hopeless romantic”, it would give you the definition and then say “see Arthur Morgan”. 

This man radiates love for you. You’ve no doubt that if you asked this man to go to war for you or to find the most rare flower, he’d do it in a heartbeat. But you won’t do that, because you love him too. 

When Arthur is gone from camp for a few days on one of his wild goose chases or Dutch’s crazy errands, he always brings something back for you, whether it be a new piece of clothing, a necklace, or just a flower he thinks you’ll like. Of course, the smaller things are the ones you cherish most.

When it comes to Valentine’s Day, he’s not a fan of showing affection. He says getting you flowers on that day does nothing to speak of his love for you because it’s expected. He’d rather get you a dozen roses on a random Tuesday in July. 

However, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t do anything on V-Day. The first time it rolled around after you two became involved, you thought he’d do what he always does: go on errands or go hunting. Normal stuff. 

Instead, he woke you up early and rushed you through breakfast. When you were done, he silently pulled you to the edge of camp to watch the sun rise, embracing you close. Afterwards, he took you out to go “hunting” (he told everyone else that’s what he was doing), but really he just used it as an excuse to get you alone. 

Instead of going to a town like Strawberry or Saint Denis to treat you to a show and a fancy dinner, he spent the day leading you up into Ambarino to an old cabin he’d found on his previous adventures. He knew it’d been abandoned for some time.

He cooked you dinner that night, stating that someone else make it in an over-packed restaurant wouldn’t suffice. You were surprised when the meal turned out to be rather delicious (you wonder if he got tips from someone in camp). 

After dinner, he asked you to sit in front of the fire so he could draw you. You know there’s already a ton of you in his journal, but you humor him. Of course, your mind wandered into whether or not to give him a show that would end up on the bed. It was Valentine’s after all. But just as you started, he stopped you.

“I want this moment to last forever, sweetheart,” he said. He finished drawing you and then joined you by the fireside where he just held you close. His hand settled on your head, placing it on his chest so you could listen to his steady heart beat. His hand stroked your hair as his other settled against your back. Like him, you wished the moment would never end. 

By the time he finally pulled away with lust-clouded eyes, it was well into the night. 

When he got you into bed, he worshiped you as he’d never done before. Sure, Arthur was always good at pleasuring you during romantic evenings like this, but this time was different. 

When he got you naked, he didn’t immediately just jump in like he usually did. No, this time he kissed and trailed his fingertips over your entire body, studying and memorizing every inch, every flaw, every scar and mole. He loved it all. 

When he was done, you were trembling and soaked, wanting to beg him to raw you. His smile said he knew exactly what you wanted. 

He spread your legs so tenderly, but still kept his throbbing member away from your heat. Instead, his fingers slid between your folds. He noted how slick and wet you were. The only response you could give him was to groan. His fingers easily found your clit and he rubbed it so slowly, you almost tipped over the edge just from that stimulation. 

He pushed a finger into you, making you gasp as your hands ran through his chest hair. He smiled at the sounds you made as you fucked his hand. Another finger pushed in, making you thrust your hips up in response. His thumb trailed over your clit again and you were done, turning into a puddle beneath him. 

When you caught your breath, that was when he finally pushed himself into you. He pounded his cock into you hard, the tip brushing your spot over and over. You dug your nails into his back as hard as you could, your heels digging into his thighs as his hips thrusted harder into you. The sounds he made, oh euphoric. 

You knew he was close, but he always waited for you to go first before he did. His hand slid between your bodies again to play with your throbbing nub and you tipped over the edge again, howling his name. He growled in your ear how beautiful you sounded when he made love to you. You kissed his neck in response, which sent him spilling his seed into you. 

He finally rolled off of you, but immediately pulled you into an almost crushing hug. Cuddling after sex is a must for him. His fingers drew lazy patterns into your back as you drifted off to sleep. Just before you fell asleep, he whispered in you ear, “Happy Valentine’s Day. I’m the luckiest man alive.”


	7. Protective Arthur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hey, it's me. How are you? Since I am writing a character who is about protecting. How about some protective Arthur headcanons on his girl?

When it comes to protective boyfriends, Arthur is a 13/10. It’s no surprise, really, not after Eliza, Isaac and even Mary. This man would literally take a bullet for you without any hesitation. 

Before you were even in a relationship with him, Arthur was already protective. It had nothing to do with how you looked or your size. Arthur’s always been protective of pretty much everyone in the gang. It’s part of his makeup when it comes to loyalty to the gang. 

He was always a bit adamant about you doing jobs, even though he knows you can handle a gun just fine. Again, it has nothing to do with you being a woman and smaller than him. The truth is he’d been harboring a crush on you for a long time and was already terrified of losing you in a shootout or an accident. 

When you two finally hooked up, his protectiveness was even more so. Sometimes, it could be a nuisance and you’d have to really talk him up to let you do any robbing or any work that might result in you getting attacked or shot. You’d been with the gang for years, so getting shot at wasn’t exactly new to you. 

There was one time you were alone in a bar. Nothing bad had happened, you just needed a drink after robbing some witless idiot on the road. This one guy, drunk as hell, wouldn’t stop harassing you. Normally you would have punched him and told him to hit the road, but Dutch had asked the gang to not cause a ruckus in the town in order to lie low, so you just told the man to leave you alone. Of course he didn’t. He seemed to like you playing “hard to get”, so he started to pester you more. Just as he was reaching to touch your hair, Arthur showed up, punched the man, dragged him outside and threw him in the mud. He didn’t care if Dutch was angry, he wasn’t going to let his girl get harassed like that. 

There was another time you were riding on the trail with him when you were ambushed by a group of robbers. They managed to get you both off your horses. A man came and was about to rummage through your pockets when you slapped him as hard as you could. After the initial shock, he pulled a knife on you. Arthur leaped between you as the man swiped, resulting in his arm getting cut open. But it gave you the chance to whip out your gun and start shooting. You scolded him afterwards for taking the knife, but he just looked you in the eyes and said, “If you got hurt and there was something I could do to prevent it, I’d never forgive myself.”

Like I said, Arthur is the definition of protective. But there have been times he’s needed to protect you from yourself. Like everyone in the gang, you have your own complicated and troubled past. One of the results of yours is that you have waves of self hatred and doubt. It breaks Arthur’s heart when he sees you in one of these funks. You’ve always been good at hiding your feelings about yourself from everyone in the gang, but Arthur can read you like a book. 

When he knows you’re feeling down, he’ll pull you into a tight hug. Arthur gives the absolute best hugs out of everyone in the gang. He’ll press your head to the crook of his neck and hold you as tight as he can. He’ll whisper in your ear how amazing he thinks you are and how he’s never loved anyone as much as he loves you. He’ll list out every one of the things about you he loves. On that list is some of the things you hate about yourself, but he loves those things. He’ll brush his lips on your forehead and let you cry yourself out. When you’re done, you’ll apologize about soaking his shirt but he says your tears will dry, as long as it means he won’t lose you. 

You’ve always held a tough exterior. You’re not one to show emotions around the others in the gang. Arthur is so big and protective over you though, he’ll be strong for you in order to let you be weak when you need to. It’s surprisingly easy to let your walls down around him and let down the hardened exterior. He loves it when you just want him to hold you so you can shut out the world. If you don’t feel like talking, he’ll just hold you in silence until you feel like coming back to reality.


	8. The Meadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a request. This was my own idea.

Arthur wanted to go out hunting with you. Since you’ve been stuck in camp for a few days, you were eager to go with him. He wanted to go look for some elk and pronghorn, so he took you down to Big Valley near Hanging Dog Ranch. 

The two of you have been casually dating for a few weeks now. Of course, nothing is casual when it comes to Arthur and it’s obvious he already has very strong feelings for you. After having your own string of bad relationships, you’ve been hesitant to take the steps into having a serious relationship with Arthur. He’s been patient with you though, knowing that trying to push you further will only end up pushing you away. 

Upon reaching Big Valley, the two of you split up in order to cover more ground and hunt. Although you arrived in the morning, you and Arthur have been separated most of the day. As you’ve hunted and gathered herbs, you’ve been contemplating your relationship with Arthur. He’s the sweetest boyfriend you’ve ever had. In fact, he’s the most perfect one you’ve ever had: protective, affectionate, brave, gentle, thoughtful. Not to mention handsome. One of the first things you were attracted to with him was his broad shoulders and wide chest. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so awful to get serious with him. All your previous relationships had red flags early on, but you’d been too blind to see them until later on. With Arthur, there hasn’t been a single one. 

Just as the sun begins to set, you’re kneeling down by the river to yank out some oregano and burdock root. Arthur headed off some time ago in the forest looking for elk. You hear his horse approaching from the distance and you look up to see him and his horse bathed in the pink rays of the setting sun. With the mountains and the forest behind him, blue bell flowers between you, you could swear he looks serene, ethereal. The image will be forever burned into your memory. 

You think about all the things he’s done for you in the past, even before you got together. The small gifts he’s brings you (your favorites are his drawings), the little smile he reserves just for you, the way his soft laugh waves through you when you tell him one of your jokes. Even though he can be mean as hell one minute, he can be sweet as sugar the next. 

As you straighten up from picking your herbs, he looks over and spots you. A wide grin cracks his face. “Hey, darlin’,” he calls. You smile and wave. He walks his horse over to you and suggests pitching camp. You agree.

When the fire’s going and the tent’s up, you sit close to Arthur. He’s not an idiot, he knows you’ve been guarded with him. Tonight though, you want to bring all your walls down for him. You look at him and he smiles at you. With a small sigh, you lean over and lay your head on his shoulder. 

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asks. You look up at him and nod. He adjusts himself so you’re even closer to him and he wraps his arm around you, kissing your head. 

You look up at him, his face framed by a star-speckled sky. You reach up and touch his stubbled chin, your thumb brushing over his lips. He looks down at you, his blue eyes soft and bright. You stretch up and kiss him softly. He sighs against your lips, his hand tangling into your hair. Without breaking the kiss, he pulls you into his lap so he can hold you even closer. His tongue traces your lips and you stick your own tongue out to meet his. You wrap your arms around his neck, pressing yourself closer to him, his warmth seeping into you and shielding you from the chill. 

After a moment, you break the kiss. You smile and stare into his eyes and pull off his hat. He reaches up and strokes your cheek with his thumb. Everything about this moment is perfect. The forest, the meadow, the starlight, the bright fire. Him. You want this moment never to end. 

“I love you, Arthur Morgan.”


	9. Arthur comforting wounded reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> User asked: “Hey, don’t touch me there. It hurts.” I'm the same anon who've asked which one of the two honors you play and since you've said high honor, how about some steam angst? I play high honor btw.

You get back to Clemens Point, frustrated and sore. You go to your tent and drop off a few things and then head over to the donation box, throwing in a few things. You head over to get a plate of stew and some cornbread, trying your best to hide your limp. Your shoulder and upper arm hurts even worse though. 

You’ve been with the Van der Linde gang for years, longer than several of the others. You’ve done tons of robberies on your own and even had a few go south in the past. This one was one of those that went south. You’d run into an escaped convict from a chain gang and shot his chains. He’d given you a tip about robbing a homestead in exchange. Robbing the house north of the Heartlands had gone smoothly as the owners were out fishing, but not five minutes after you’d left, several O’Driscolls showed up. Based on the things they were screaming, they’d been meaning to rob the house. 

One of the O’Driscolls forced you off your horse and demanded you hand over your dishonest gains from the house. You’d gotten off and feigned letting him come over and go through your pockets and then shot him when he was distracted. Of course, this resulted in the others shooting at you. You quickly remounted your horse in order to try and outrun them, but your horse panicked and threw you off, which was how your leg got hurt. When you regained your feet to continue shooting, one of the O’Driscolls slammed you into the ground and sliced your arm open with his knife. Somehow, you managed to kill him and the others, but the damage had been done. You hid the cut on your arm by throwing on your old duster. 

You sit next to John at the fire, trading small talk and trying to ignore the horrible burning in your arm. You should be getting it taken care of, but you know how Grimshaw will lecture you if she finds out. You’re not in the mood. Besides, it’s probably not that deep. 

John proves a good distraction until Abigail calls him away. He rolls his eyes when she retreats to her tent with Jack. “What now?” he grumbles and leaves. 

You finish the last of your stew and cornbread, then head over to your tent. You’ll have to try and treat your arm by yourself. You always hate doing this: treating your own wounds. Not only that, but now that the adrenaline from the attack has worn off and no one is around to prove a distraction, you’re feeling a bit shaken up. 

You sit down on your cot and fold your knees to your chest, ignoring the complaints from your hip. You feel weak, pathetic. You’ve been in plenty of shootouts, why is this one so different? It makes you angry that you feel this way. Everyone’s always seen you as being one of the toughest members in the gang, and also the most fearless. 

Just as you’re about to put your head on your knees in order to let go, a voice calls your attention by speaking your name. 

“Hey, I got you those… you a’right?” It’s Arthur, of course. He must have just gotten back from one of his adventures. You mentioned weeks ago how you lost your camera when you fled Blackwater. You liked taking pictures of nature, animals, people. It was your hobby. You’ve been meaning to replace it since fleeing, but just haven’t gotten around to it. Arthur being Arthur, you’re not surprised he went out of his way to find you one. 

When you first joined the gang all those years ago, you and Arthur were friendly, but definitely didn’t have a thing for each other. You became fast friends however. You had to since you were the best hunters and spent a lot of time providing meat for the gang. Arthur also taught you how to rob and shoot guns. You didn’t realize you were in love with him until Arthur got separated from the gang for three weeks and you realized how much you missed him. It was when he returned you discovered you had feelings for him. However, you knew about Mary and how emotionally unavailable he was, so you kept your feelings bottled up in order to retain your friendship. 

“I’m fine,” you say, coming back to the present. “Just tired, is all.” You tell him about the robbery and the O’Driscolls, minus the slice across your arm. Arthur sits down next to you, setting the camera down on the table next to your cot. 

“Well, sounds like you had quite the ride,” he chuckles lightly. 

“Yeah, I’m okay though,” you say, hoping he doesn’t notice the shaking in your voice. 

He smiles and then puts an arm around you. He’s about to say something when his hand unknowingly presses upon the gash in your arms. You yelp out. “Hey, don’t touch me there. It hurts.” 

His brows lift up. “You okay?” 

You sigh, knowing you can’t hide it anymore. You tell him the parts you left out. He slides your duster coat off and sees the sleeve of your shirt is soaked in blood. 

“Jesus, girl. I know Grimshaw’s a chore, but this is bad. You need stitches.” 

“I’m fine, Arthur. I was gonna wrap it, but I didn’t think it was that bad.” 

He rolls his eyes and leaves for a moment. When he comes back, he’s holding Strauss’s medical kit. He delicately rolls up your sleeve, cleans the wound with some alcohol which burns like hell, and then sews you up. His hands are definitely more clumsy than Grimshaw’s or the other girls, but it’ll do. He then finishes it up by wrapping it up. 

“There. You should change into something clean.” 

He stands at the opening of your tent with his back to you so you can do just that. When you’re done, he turns back and smiles at you. “Good. Can’t be worryin’ about ya. Now, anything else you wanna talk about?”

His voice is so low and he looks at you in such a soft, gentle way, it becomes obvious he knows how shaken you are. As if on queue, you put your face in your hands and break down. You expect him to roll his eyes, tell you to buck up or something along those lines. The last thing you thought he’d do is fold his arms around you, letting you rest your head in the crook of his neck. You’ve envisioned doing this in your daydreams, even imagined how his heart would sound. Those are pathetic in comparison to this, the real thing. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he says so softly you barely hear him. “You’re still tough as nails, but our life can be scary. It’s okay to let it get the better of you every once in a while.” 

You don’t know how long you stay in his arms, but you finally pull away and thank him. He smiles and responds by kissing your forehead and then rubbing your cheeks dry with his thumb. His face is so close to yours, you can feel his breath. He starts leaning in as though he’s about to kiss you.

“Arthur! I need to talk to you about them Grays!” Dutch hollers. Arthur pulls away and looks over at him. He then turns back to you and whispers in your ear.

“We’ll pick this up later, sweetheart.” He gives you a wink before joining Dutch.


	10. Jealous/Possessive Arthur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hello! Could you write headcanons about Arthur being jealous and possessive ? I love the " you're mine " thing, it makes me melt 😊

Warnings: very light smut

As discusses in a previous head cannon, Arthur is naturally just a jealous person when he’s in a relationship. It doesn’t come from the fear that you’ll do anything. It’s rooted in his deep self doubt and hatred for himself. He never thought he’d be worthy of being in a relationship with someone as incredible as you. 

Of course, you’d never do anything to make him jealous on purpose, but sometimes it’s fun to tease him. Especially if you’re in the mood to go for a roll in the hay with him and he’s being stubborn about it (he likes playing hard to get sometimes). 

You don’t flirt with any of the guys in camp as there’s generally enough drama anyways (mostly stemmed from Dutch). Besides, you hate to lead on any of the other guys as most of them are genuinely sweet and passionate, plus you don’t feel that way towards any of them. 

Instead, you’ll sometimes flirt with a random Joe at the saloon. It’s best to do this when you and Arthur have argued recently. As good as your relationship is with him, arguments are inevitable. Plus this man is a pro at giving the cold shoulder. When he’s doing his best to ignore you while getting drinks or browsing the store, you’ll nonchalantly flirt with another man there while giving Arthur the side eye. 

He knows you’re trying to rile him up, but he also knows he can play this game too and pretends not to care. There was one time, after a particularly heated argument, that sticks out in your mind. You fought over something that was really small and insignificant, but Grimshaw had been on you all day and Arthur had been sent out on multiple errands and came back just exhausted and cranky. Unfortunately, you both took your frustrations out on each other. Nothing physical happened, but words were said you both regretted. 

Arthur disappeared soon after the fight and you knew he’d go to the saloon to get trashed as it was his habit. You wandered away from the camp to slam your hatchet into a dead tree and work out the remaining frustrations. When you were worn out and no longer angry, you went to go find Arthur at the saloon. He wasn’t quite drunk, but he was well on his way. When you sat down to try and talk to him in a passive way, trying to remedy the situation, he completely ignored you. This didn’t surprise you. After all, he’s always been incredibly stubborn. So, in order to get his goat, you sauntered off and found a relatively decent fellow sitting at the poker table. He wore a nice suit and tie. Perhaps he was from the city. 

You introduced yourself to the man and immediately sat on his lap, your eyes flickering over to Arthur every few seconds. He saw how you were positioned of course, but he was still playing cold. You started to flirt with the rich man, rubbing his beard and licking your lips while you spoke to him. The man was completely flustered and the other men at the poker table teased him something horrible. 

After a few moments of teasing and flirting, you looked at the bar and saw Arthur was gone. You thought maybe you went too far with this. Had you put it into his mind that you didn’t want him anymore? Just as you were beginning to panic, the man you were sitting on leaned forward and whispered in your ear, “Why don’t we go to my room in the hotel across the road?” 

Before you could answer, you were thrown off his lap as someone picked him up. Looking up, you saw Arthur punching the man. One hit was all it took to knock him out. These damn city boys. The other men around the poker table ran off, not wanting to get involved. Arthur glared down at you but then offered you his hand. He pulled you close to him, holding on so tight it almost hurt. 

“How many times I gotta tell ya you’re mine?” he growled in your ear. It was clear he was still angry about the earlier argument, but not enough to ignore you. You smiled up at him, walking your fingers up his shirt. 

“Why don’t you show me I’m yours?” you purred. 

Without hesitating, he picked you up and paid for a room. There, you helped work out the last bit of frustrations. By the end of the last round, he growled in your ear. “Don’t ever forget that you’re mine as much as I’m yours. Forget again and I’m gonna have to keep doin’ this to ya.” 

Seeing as he made a complete mess of you and caused you to scream his name multiple times, you definitely didn’t have a problem with that.


	11. You don't mind me touching you there, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Try this one with fem reader being steamy and smutty on Arthur. “You don’t mind me touching you there, right?” please?

Warnings: smut obviously, swearing

You’ve had a wonderful day with Arthur. He wanted to go treasure hunting earlier and you were on board of course. Any excuse to get out of camp and out of Grimshaw’s reach. After following three pieces of a torn map, you came away with two gold bars. Arthur smiled and offered you one but reminded you to give half to the gang. Always thinking of the gang. You would of course. 

The sun’s still high and you tell him that you want to go get some drinks at the saloon in Valentine since it’s the closest. He agrees, although you know that probably half the gang is waiting for him to return so he can run their damn errands for them. 

Arthur’s been stressed lately. It’s not hard to see. Although you’ve been together for nearly a month, you haven’t made love to him yet. You’ve been thinking lately you might change that in order to relieve him of some of the burden on his shoulders. Perhaps tonight after a few drinks, you can help him out. 

When you get to the saloon, you order a few shots but warn Arthur to not get carried away. You remember what he was like when he went off with Lenny. Although funny, you know he was pretty miserable the day after. He tells you he’ll go easy on the booze. 

After a few shots and bottles of beer though, you’re both singing rather badly near the piano. Arthur couldn’t be more handsome and you’re starting to itch to get him alone in a room in the hotel. Already you’re lower half is tingling. 

Just as you’re about to approach him to suggest going off, a drunk man stumbles into you. “Oh, watch where you’re goi- well hello there.” When he sees you, it’s clear he finds you attractive. The man’s face splits into a horrible grin. “What’s a pretty little thing like you doin’ in a place like this?” 

“Hey buddy,” Arthur growls, shoving his shoulder. “She’s with me, a’right? Go harass the bar girls.” 

The man doesn’t hesitate before he punches Arthur in the face. Arthur responds immediately and a fight quickly breaks out. Arthur quickly knocks out the other man, but he’s taken quite a beating. Before he has the chance to jump into another brawl, you grab him by the arm and run outside with him. 

“Arthur, don’t go back in there,” you say, trying not to stumble in your own drunken stupor. “Let’s just go get a room.” 

Arthur groans and clutches his shoulder, clearly tender. Once the room’s paid for and you go in, you can tell he took a bigger beating than past fights. A bruise is forming over his jaw and he has a slight limp, probably from twisting his knee. He keeps clutching his shoulder. You sit him down to inspect him. 

As soon as you touch his face, he winces away. “Ah, don’t touch me there,” he says, rubbing his bruised jaw. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Morgan,” you say. You touch his injured shoulder, just pressing enough to make him wince. 

“What are you doing?” he growls. “That hurts!” 

“I’m just trying to see how many injuries you have. I promise I’ll be quick.” 

You quickly feel him over, finding his tender spots. Towards the end, you’re on your knees in front of him as he sits on the bed. You finish inspecting his leg and then your hands slide up his thighs and meet together on his crotch. “ You don’t mind me touching you there, right?” His breath hitches and he looks down at you. “N-not at all, darlin’.” 

You smile and start applying a bit more pressure. It doesn’t take long before you feel the bulge in his pants grow and he’s moaning, his hands twisting in your hair. You make quick work of his buckle and the zipper, reaching in to spring his cock out. It’s longer than you imagined, but not so thick as to be intimidating. A large vein runs down it, his head purple. Heat travels down your legs in response. You touch it and he twitches in response. It makes you smile and you fold your hand around it, gently rubbing his shaft. You run your thumb across the slit at the head and he spreads his legs, his hands gripping the bedspread. 

“Oh God darlin’,” he moans as you continue to touch and stimulate him. Within seconds, fluids begin leaking out of his cock. You remove your hand, trying to frustrate him. It works. 

“Please, darlin’,” he says, his eyes clouded with pleasure. “Keep goin’.” 

“You gotta earn it,” you say, standing up. You quickly unbutton your shirt and rip it off. Then you untuck your chemise and lift it up, exposing your breasts to him. His eyes study them and his tongue licks his lips. His hands let go of the bed spread and he touches your stomach before he pulls you close and his lips crash to your nipple. His hand fondles the other breast, sending jolts through your body. You tilt your head back as he licks just above your breast bone. 

“I could spend a thousand years enjoying these,” he says, continuing to study your nipple with his tongue and teeth. You tangle your hand in his hair. 

“I’d like to study your body too, Arthur,” you groan. You’ve already practically soaked your bloomers. 

He pulls away and grins at you. He stand up, towering above you. Slowly he unbuttons his shirt. As soon as you see his bare chest and stomach, your hands are on him, licking his chest and neck. 

“Take it easy, sweetheart,” he says. “Ain’t done yet.” He quickly removes the rest of his shirt and pulls his pants completely off. He stands before you stark naked. He looks incredible. 

“Oh God, Arthur,” you say, taking in the view. His already pink cheeks flush more. You suddenly shove him as hard as you can so he crashes onto the bed. He grunts a little but watches as you remove your own pants and then climb onto the bed and onto his hips. 

“Oh, how I’ve dreamed of this,” he says. You smile.

Just as you’re about to lower yourself onto his hips, he squeezes yours and stops you. 

“Let me repay your favor,” he growls. His hand glides down to your slit and finds your pulsing, aching nub. You gasp as he strokes it again and again. Your legs begin to quiver as he stimulates you more and more. He pushes a finger into your center and then another, making you wince. His thumb circles your clit again and again until you’re just about to hit your peak. Just before it does, his hands stop.

“Arthur,” you whine. “I’m… I wanna come!” 

He chuckles deeply. “Now you know how it feels.” He suddenly flips you onto your back and then climbs onto you. His lips crash on yours. He grips your knees, pushing them up and then his length slides into your soaked opening, making you gasp again. 

“Oh God!” you say, thrusting your hips against his in a steady rhythm. He starts kissing your neck, panting between kisses. The sound alone is a stimulation. You grind your heels into his thighs, trying to pull him close. He buries himself deeper and brushes your spot. Then his hand goes into your slit again, tickling your clit again. Within seconds, that hot warmth uncurls in your stomach and expands down into your core.

“Fuck!” you scream as your head tilts back and you squeeze the sheets beneath you as your back arches. He growls in your ear and stimulates your clit again and again, prolonging your orgasm. You scream out, trying to get away but he’s pinned you beneath him. He pushes hard and his index and thumb squeeze your nub just enough that your legs straighten and you scream, feeling sure your soul has just left your body. 

After a second or two, you finally come crashing down again. You take in a deep breath, your body falling limp beneath him. 

“Good girl,” he purrs. He continues pounding his cock into your walls. You reach up and kiss him, winding your hands into his hair again. You spread your legs wider, giving him an even better angle. His pounding becomes harder and less rhythmic. Without warning, he suddenly releases into you, grunting loudly into your ear. He lies on you for a few seconds before collecting himself and kneeling up. He puts his hands on your knees, keeping them spread as he gazes down to your slit. He smiles.

He sighs and then lies down beside you. You roll over, glad you’re no longer a puddle on the bed. His arm wraps around you and he kisses you before you settle on his chest. Your hand settles on his chest, winding in his short blond hair. His hand on your shoulder draws patterns into your back and shoulders. 

“Thank you, darlin’,” he says, kissing your head. “I love you.” 


	12. Invisible illness - Modern Arthur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> User asked: How would a modern au Arthur feel about a female reader who had an invisible illness that caused a lot of pain on the daily? How would he be? Feel?

Arthur puts his grooming brush away and pats his horse affectionately. He loves his little ranch he lives on. He wouldn’t live anywhere else, especially not in the city just beyond the mountain range. Sure, there’s more work and a lot more money in the city, but a lot less happiness and love. He grew up with his uncles Dutch and Hosea after his parents died in a car accident when he was a kid, working on their ranch. Of course, they showed him a few tricks in how to make the most money out of their work and how to do it on the sly. 

Unfortunately for him, Hosea passed away a few years ago due to cancer and Dutch was never the same after that. He ended up just disappearing out of the blue one day and Arthur was never able to contact him again after that. He hoped Dutch was just off trying to find himself now that Hosea’s gone. His own life became rather lonely as he worked on the ranch alone. Since it wasn’t huge, he managed to do it just fine. 

Then he met you at the only gas station in town. You were hopelessly lost trying to find your way to one of the lakes up in the mountains for a peaceful and quiet weekend, but service was spotty out this far and you’ve never been good at reading paper maps. Arthur was there and he helped point you in the right direction. He could see you were rattled because you’d been so lost. Not only that, you were taking the weekend off in order to get away from your own troubles. Your boyfriend at the time was abusive in the emotional sense and you’d just discovered he’d been cheating on you. 

It was pretty late in the day by the time Arthur helped you get sorted and the town’s so small there’s no hotel or even bed and breakfast. It’s all just ranches and farms out here, plus a trailer park but no one goes there. He doesn’t like the idea of someone who doesn’t know the area traveling into the mountains when it’s dark. The roads are windy and several of them are dirt. Many inexperienced drivers have crashed their cars on those roads. He offers you to come home with him, have a beer and something to eat and then says he has a spare room in the barn (where he used to sleep as a boy) that you’re welcome to. Relieved to finally get some help, you accepted. 

The two of you got on so well that the next morning, you asked for Arthur’s number. He was incredibly attractive with his rugged cowboy hat and boots. You’ve only dated soft city boys before, but you always wondered what it was like living out here where no one can bother you. Arthur gave you his number and then said he’d love to go to this lake with you as he knew the roads better. 

After that, you two started dating. It was difficult at first because you lived in the city two hours away. However, you video chatted with each other almost every night and grew incredibly close. Every weekend, one of you would drive to see the other and spend the weekend together. Arthur was a perfect gentleman. Kind, thoughtful, rugged and rough in just the right places. One time your ex even barged into your apartment and accused you of cheating right in front of Arthur. He went home with a bruised jaw and split lip. 

Arthur smiles as he thinks about the last time he saw you. It was nearly a year ago he bumped into you and he’s never been happier. You ended up getting a remote job that allowed you to work from home mostly, so you moved into his ranch home. You’ve never been happier. Sure, the drive to the local grocery store isn’t as convenient as the city and if you want to do anything fun, there’s always at least a thirty minute drive to the largest town, but you love the quiet, the peace. Arthur’s a huge bonus too, of course. 

Arthur finishes filling the troughs with water and then goes to turn off the hose. You left this morning to go to the city to do one of your monthly days in the office. Your job requires you to come in once a month for paperwork, attend meetings and so forth, but it’s not too bad. Arthur hates the days you’re gone. You’ve brought a new light to his life to fill the absence of Hosea and Dutch. He couldn’t imagine being happier than he is now. 

Just as he finished rolling up the hose, his cell phone rings. Since the weather’s clear, service is actually pretty decent. He pulls out his phone, expecting to see an unknown number from a likely scanner. Instead, it comes up as the number for a hospital three towns over. His stomach drops and he picks it up. 

The voice tells him you’ve been in a serious accident. A driver suspected of being on drugs hit you head on at high speed and totaled your car. You’re in critical condition and the person on the phone asks he come see you. Of course, he doesn’t hesitate. He grabs the keys to his truck and drives as fast as he can to the hospital you’re at. 

When he sees you in the bed, tubes all along your body and scratches on your face from the broken glass, he breaks down. He’s so frightened about what’s going to happen. The nurse explains you suffered a concussion but they doubt you’ll be out more than a day or two. You’ve suffered a broken hand, wrist and a fracture in your sternum, but luckily they don’t think any of your organs were injured. Arthur stays by your side night and day, fretting over you. 

When you finally wake, he’s overjoyed. He wants nothing more than to hold you, but he knows how much pain you’re in and how broken your body is. Of course, because of the pain killers, you don’t feel much. After another day in the hospital, the doctor deems you well enough to return home but orders you to bed rest for the next several weeks so your sternum can heal. 

Arthur’s the best caregiver with you. He comes and checks on you every hour in the bed, making sure you have enough to eat. He even moves the TV into the room so you can watch something if you want. Anything you want, he’ll get it for you. He checks his phone constantly as he works in case you’ve texted him. He’s so gentle and loving, you don’t even feel scared anymore.

After a week has passed though, you start feeling horrible pain in your chest. It’s not from your sternum either. Instead it feels like someone is grabbing your lower ribs and trying to crush them. It’s a horrible pain and Arthur, fearing the worst, takes you back to the hospital. Tests are run and scans are taken, but unfortunately the doctor can’t find any explanation for your pain. An exploratory surgery is even done but still, no answer. A few more screenings are taken and then they send you home with more painkillers and promises they’ll try to find what’s causing it. 

Weeks go by and nothing. Arthur has called the hospital and even yelled at people trying to find the answers, but nothing. Your injuries have all healed but the pain in your ribs is still there. It fades though, allowing you to do work around the ranch and your own job, but at least once a day, a wave of horrible pain will slam into you, forcing you to sit down wherever you’re at and clutch your midriff. It often causes you to cry. 

Arthur almost seems to have a sixth sense for when you’re having an episode. He finds you every time. He sets down whatever he’s doing, sits down next to you and pulls you into his arm. He lets you cry into his shoulder, pets your hair and whispers promises that the answer will be found. He wishes he could do something, anything, to help you. Unfortunately, there’s nothing more he can do other than support you like this and he hates it. He does everything in his power to make you feel better. 

Sometimes he can be a bit of a pest with how protective he’s become since the accident. Occasionally you’ll try to get up on the horse he lets you ride, but he’ll try and argue with you about it, stating if you have an episode, you’ll fall off. You know he’s just trying to protect you, but sometimes it comes off as if he thinks you can’t do it. 

Finally the doctor calls and explains they still can’t find an answer to your pain. They’re sure it’s some kind of injury, but they believe the episodes will begin to fade over time as your body heals. 

Another year passes and while the episodes are not as common, only every couple of weeks, you still have them. The doctor prescribed medicine for you to take during one of these episodes that will help the episode pass sooner than they used to.

Arthur’s been so good to you since the accident. He’s not as protective anymore, but if he sees you start to have one, he’ll grab you and help you sit down. If you’re on your horse, he’ll help you off and just hold you until it passes. He always makes one of your favorite meals after you’ve had an episode. He just wants you to know that he cares about you. He’s easily the best boyfriend you’ve ever had and there’s no doubt in your mind you’ll spend the rest of your life with him.


	13. The singer - Arthur & Javier Escuella

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Howdy partner ! How do you think Javier and Arthur would react if they discover that their girlfriend/wife can sing opera and is very talented ? I just saw a documentary about it so it gave me this original idea, but I don't write and you do it very well, so have fun with this special request x)

**Arthur Morgan**

  * You’ve been dating for some time now. Months, really. Arthur already loves you more than anyone else he’s ever dated, not that there’s a long list.
  * He finds so many of your habits quirky and adorable. He loves the little things you do best. The way you wear your hair, the way you move. The way you stick your tongue out when you’re focusing really hard on a task. 
  * He comes back to camp one day to find you’ve gone The other girls tell him you’ve gone down to the river. 
  * He follows the trail down and soon hears your voice, but you’re singing. He’s never heard you sing before and he certainly didn’t know you were a trained opera singer. The sound is beautiful and he actually stops to listen before continuing on to find you. 
  * Once he spots you bathing in a secluded section of the river, he just watches you and listens as you continue to sing. He swears you’re an angel, washed in sunlight as your voice carries over to him. 
  * You look up and spot him. You’re not embarrassed that he’s looking at you while you’re nude. He’s seen you plenty of times like this. However, you call out. “How dare you spy on a lady while she’s bathing, Mr. Morgan?” 
  * He can’t help but chuckle, the spell your voice cast broken, but at least it’s replaced by your lovely smile. 
  * You walk up to him, putting on your undergarments. You stretch up to kiss him but he pulls away. 
  * “You want one, you gotta do two things: first, explain where you learned to sing like that and second you have to sing for a kiss.” 
  * You grin at him. “My mom used to sing with a traveling show until she met my dad. She taught me to sing and I even performed with her a few places. You really like it that much?” 
  * He nods. “Nothing has sounded more amazin’, darlin’. Now sing.” 
  * You do and his eyes light up. He listens to every syllable and a big, goofy grin spreads across your face. When you finish the last note, he folds his arms around you.
  * “Good girl. Now your reward.” 
  * This kiss is different. It’s full of passion and desire, and his hands squeeze around your waist. 
  * “Promise me you’ll do that more often,” he whispers in your ear. 



**Javier Escuella**

  * You and Javier have been together for years. You’re honestly surprised he hasn’t popped the question, but you’re not pressuring him. He’s probably just worried about what the future has in store. 
  * However, it doesn’t stop you dropping hints. You go as far as pointing out pretty rings you see in stores whenever you’re in town with him, making flower necklaces and crowns, practicing saying your name with his and even some phrases in Spanish. 
  * One night, while sitting around the fire, you decide to drop the ultimate hint. You’ve never told Javier about your past as a singer. It was so long ago and it’s what got you in trouble in the first place. You used to sing with a pretty big traveling show, but one night one of the other performers who had one of the biggest acts got drunk and became overly friendly with you. 
  * He tried raping you, telling you to sing for him, but you ended up whipping out the knife he always carried and slashing his throat. 
  * The director of the show was furious, telling you that you should have let him attack you since he’d still be alive. He put a bounty on your head when you told him where to stick it, which forced you to flee right into this gang. Although you’re happy and like pretty much everyone here, you vowed never to sing again because it’s what got you in trouble in the first place. 
  * Javier sits around the fire with multiple other members sitting around it. They trade talk easily and laugh often. The mood is high and the sky is clear, flecked with stars. The perfect mood. 
  * Javier grabs his guitar and begins playing. You sway to the tune for a few minutes and then you call over to him, asking him to play the tune for a love song you used to sing. He doesn’t know it, but you hum the first few verses and the chorus. Javier has a spectacular ear, so he plays around with the notes until he’s got it down. 
  * He begins to play the beginning of the song and you stand up, caught up in the moment, and then begin to sing. Your strong voice carries across camp, silencing everyone around as they listen. Javier stumbles a bit as he listens, clearly taken in by your voice. 
  * You really focus on the lines that have to do with loving someone eternally and unconditionally, pointedly looking at Javier. His eyes are big and his mouth is slightly open, but his fingers never stop moving. 
  * You finish the last note on a long, high stream. Javier follows it with a flourish in the chords and then silence. 
  * Uncle and Dutch comment on how beautiful the song was. Arthur says he never knew you could sing. Even Grimshaw compliments you. However, you focus only on Javier. 
  * He sets down his guitar and then stands up. He puts his hand on your shoulder and slowly walks you away from the fire and into the cover of the trees. 
  * “I guess you really want to talk about our future,” he says, blushing. “Guess I need to go find a ring.” 




	14. Reader's illness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hey! Could you write headcanons of Arthur caring/taking care of his s/o who has some serious illness, instead of him suffering with Tuberculosis?

Arthur is by far the most thoughtful of the gang when it comes to taking care of you or trying to make you feel better. It doesn’t matter that you’re his SO. Even if you weren’t, he’d be worried about you and want to take care of you because that’s how he is. He lives, breathes and would die for his gang. 

If you need anything, you barely have to say the words before he’s getting it. 

He insists you sleep in his cot as long as you need to. He’ll happily sleep on the floor next to you, but if you want him to lay down with you, he’s more than happy to do that. He won’t even care if your illness is contagious or not. He just wants to do what he can to make you feel better. 

If you’re so ill that you can’t really get out of bed, he’ll bring you anything and everything to help keep you occupied. The girls will bring you things to sew of course (per Grimshaw’s demands), but Arthur likes bringing you books, pictures, flowers, anything to alleviate the boredom. 

If you get stir crazy, he’ll pick you up as gently as he can and take you for an easy ride. Nowhere too far, but far enough you can’t see the camp. He likes taking you to rivers or lakes, somewhere with moving water. He says whenever he feels sick, he likes to be near them. For some reason, it helps him feel better. 

Arthur constantly worries about you. Nothing terrifies him more than the thought that this illness might beat you. It frustrates him that he can’t beat or kill your greatest enemy. This unfortunately causes him to act out when he’s in town, occasionally starting a fight just so he can hit someone. 

You ask him not to though because you hate seeing him come back with bruises on his face. He tries to listen and obey your requests, but it’s difficult sometimes.

He will do his best to leave camp as little as often when you’re in bad shape. He just wants to be close to you. This doesn’t sit well with Dutch of course and they end up arguing a lot. Arthur will leave for a few hours and usually come back with some game just to get Dutch off his back.

When you’re sleeping, Arthur likes just sitting next to you. Sometimes he’ll hold your hand or he’ll study your face and draw it. His journal is filled with entries about how scared he is of losing you. If he could be the one suffering from your illness, he’d gladly do it. 

He brings you dozens of remedies to try and see if any of them help. Some he buys from stores, others are recommendations from Hosea or Strauss or even strangers he meets on his travels. Some are of his own design. He just wants you healthy again. 

Sometimes you’ll wake up in the middle of the night and find him crying. It breaks your heart to see him so overwhelmed with sadness and fear. You’ll hold him and let him cry into your hair and shoulder, telling him you’ll be okay. He only cries when he’s alone with you. 

If you end up getting better, he’ll be so extraordinarily happy, he’ll troop you around the gang exclaiming how incredible and strong you are. He demands everyone tell you how amazing you look. Jack brings you a flower necklace and Arthur hugs him tight. He’s so excited and happy that you’re finally healthy, he hugs you often and tightly. He’ll even kiss you in full view of the gang. He doesn’t care. He’s just grateful he gets to keep you.

If the illness ends up taking you, this poor man will be beyond grief. He’s so heartbroken by it all that he ends up just leaving the gang. Not permanently. Maybe just for a few weeks or a couple of months. He just wanders the wilderness, looking for purpose. Or maybe he’s just looking for you. He doesn’t really know. He takes out his anger in any way he can without getting into too much trouble and he cries often. He just misses you and would do anything to have you back. Sometimes he wants to do things to end his own life, but he knows it’s not what you’d want for him, so he carries on. When he returns to the gang, he’s not nearly as responsive and loyal to Dutch. He argues more easily with the gang and everyone can see he cares less. Your death has put some tall, thick walls around his heart. He doubts he’ll ever love anyone even a fraction of how much he loved you.


	15. Tree climbing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> User asked: I just want rough thick Arthur x reader 😫 (Like woowwww that’s a big boy. A tree that I would willingly climb)

Warnings: light smut

Let’s face it, this man is a beast when he wants to be. Just as much as a gentle cowboy and hopeless romantic. 

If you want to just lie down and cuddle with him, he’s 100% for that. With all the running around he has to do, nothing feels better at the end of the day than a good cuddle session with you. 

However, this man knows exactly how to please you in bed when it comes to sex. He isn’t a huge fan of getting rough or trying to make you loud when you’re doing it in camp though. He knows exactly what kind of backlash he’d get, and he doesn’t want to even think about how badly you’d be teased. 

He was never rough with you at first. He wants to be careful with you because he’s afraid of accidentally hurting you or worse losing you. Sometimes though, you really wish he was rough. 

You’d been eyeballing him in camp one day. He was talking with John and his back was to you. He wasn’t wearing anything but his union suit and pants. The suit hugged him in exactly the right places, showing off his broad shoulders and wide chest and back. It didn’t help when he put his hands on his gun belt and cocked his hip. You must have been drooling or something because Karen called your attention. 

Arthur heard her call your name louder than was needed as you were sitting right next to her. He turned to see you blushing and smiling at her. He wanted to know what the two of you were talking about so he wandered around to where he could hear you but not be seen. 

“I just want to climb him like a tree!” he heard you say. It made him blush. “I swear he stands like that on purpose.” 

Karen just laughed. She admitted that she and most the other girls all had crushes on Arthur when they first joined, but then things happened with him or themselves and then he met you, which ended all their attractions to him. Anyone who saw him with you could tell he was in love. 

He decided he’d put your obvious thirst for him to his use. A few hours later, he invited you to leave camp with him, stating it was just for hunting or scouting. he took you into the middle of nowhere in the Heartlands with nothing surrounding the two of you but grass. 

That night, he invited you to lay close to him. After a few moments of cuddling, he pulled his usual moves and gestures to let you know he was in the mood for some loving. Of course, you were more than eager.

He started gentle as always. Tracing here and there on your skin, kissing you in certain places. But just as you were getting warmed up, he suddenly started getting rough with you. Not that you minded, of course. He made it feel good. The way he plowed into you, grabbing your hips and chest so hard there’d definitely be bruising in the morning. He even flipped you onto your stomach and railed you from behind. God, he was good. 

“Heard you like climbin’ trees?” he said after your first round. You blushed and knew he’d heard you talking to Karen. Your only way to respond was to jump on him and ride him as hard as you could. His groans were loud enough to compete with your own. He loved the way you bounced on him. He flipped you onto your back and pounded hard into you again, your fingers clawing his back. He loves it all. 

When the two of you were finally exhausted and can’t go anymore rounds, he spooned you from behind and kissed your neck lightly. You didn’t even care that you actually kind of hurt, it was worth it. You met his lips with yours. “We definitely need to do this again,” you said.

“That I can promise,” he growled.


	16. Modern Arthur proposes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> User asked: I’m obsessed with modern au Arthur. Possible to do one with him and a female reader where they’re well into their relationship, he asks her to marry him, she says yes and it turns smutty? (And possible to make her chubby?) thanks!

You’ve been together for three years. Three long, mostly good years. Arthur can still remember the way you looked when he first met you. So beautiful, with your gorgeous eyes that he could swear saw right into his soul. From the moment he saw you, he wanted to know everything about you. Your talents and your flaws. 

You’d been on your way to your favorite lake in order to get away from your life for a day. You had to travel through the small town Arthur lived in on his ranch in order to get there, but your car started to make weird sounds, so you stopped at the one mechanic shop and gas station in the town. Arthur happened to be there too when you pulled in to fill up on gas. He’d heard the sounds your car were making and he approached you, asking if you needed help. You smiled and said you’d hire the mechanic, but he was always generous and willing to help a lending hand he offered to look at your car and try to fix it for free. As you were in college still and on break for summer, you were willing to cut any financial corners you could. 

The problem turned out to be an easy fix, but it would have cost you a couple hundred bucks. Arthur, good on his word, fixed it for free. The two of you talked while he worked and he really liked you. The way you talked (though he could tell you were guarded), the way you smiled at him, the way you brushed your hair from your face. He couldn’t let you leave without asking you out. At first, you thought he was joking. No way in hell was this hot guy asking you out. You, an overweight woman who’d spent the last few years completely alone. No one noticed you or thought you were pretty because of your weight, so why in the hell would he? Arthur’s smile seemed so genuine though you finally said yes. 

Arthur remembers that first date almost like it’d just happened. He took you to a nice Asian restaurant and you talked for hours. For once, you decided to wear your nicer clothes and not your usual shirts that had logos from movies or tv shows. The colors you chose made your eyes shine all the brighter, but Arthur could sense your hesitancy. However, he was ecstatic when you agreed to a second date. 

After your third date, he knew he was in love with you. You had so much in common and you were gorgeous. He didn’t even notice your size, not that it was a dampener to begin with. He also loved that, even though you struggled a lot with your image in high school, you no longer let it hold you back. You simply said, “Yes, I am a chubby girl. But that doesn’t define me.” He didn’t like that you always added you had much larger flaws than your weight. He thought you were perfect. 

He learned on the fourth date though that you were suffering from a broken heart, which was why you’d gone running up to your favorite lake the day you met him. It was also the main factor for your hesitancy. Your best friend of over a decade had passed away from a brain tumor the past winter and you were still struggling with it. You didn’t have many friends so this one was a particularly harsh blow. However, as you and Arhur became closer and more intimate, he started to help you heal that heartache. 

He can still recall the first time you two made love. You were always a guarded person with thick walls, but when you two first laid down together after a few glasses of wine, they all came tumbling down. He was already crazy about you before, but after that he was completely head over heels. You never said anything, but he felt you were the same way about him. 

Two semesters later, you graduated college but had nowhere to live unless you wanted to move back in with your parents, which you really didn’t want to do. Arthur lived alone on his ranch with his dog. He knew you moving from the city to his small town might be an adjustment for you, he asked you to move in with him. You jumped on the opportunity as you had been offered a job that allowed you to work remotely and although the town was small, it wasn’t too far from the city. Plus, it was the gateway to your favorite lake, an added bonus. 

You two lived together famously. Sure, there were a few fights, but for the most part you worked together extremely well. He wanted to ask you to marry him only a few months after you moved in, but you went off one night about how stupid some people could be when it came to their relationships. Your sister had just gotten divorced from your husband of four years because he turned out to be cheating and then she also told you he’d been abusing her, both physically and mentally. You’d seen it coming, of course. You never liked the guy to begin with and they didn’t live together before they were married and she told you if she’d known some of his living and financial habits before, she’d never have married him. You ranted at Arthur half the night about how crucial it was for people to not only make sure they were sexually compatible before marriage, but also financially and habitually compatible. Arthur decided on that night, he’d wait until you’d been living together for at least a year before popping the question. 

It’s been well over that mark now and your relationship is the strongest it’s ever been. Your job pays great and he’s still making good enough money on his ranch to make your lives comfortable. He’s also taught you how to help him run it, and you actually like the work. He’s ready to marry you; no one has made him happier and he couldn’t imagine life without you. He just wonders how to do it. He has a ring, he went and bought one that he knew you’d love and the stone wasn’t a diamond. You hated diamonds, they were too common. Instead, the stone was your favorite color. He smiled whenever he thought about it. 

He’s been thinking about what to do in order to ask. A million ideas run through his mind. He doesn’t want to do the “sit at dinner and put the ring in your drink” thing. Too unoriginal. You’d certainly say no because there’d be no thought behind it. He wanted to do something that said he knew you. You love animals a lot, he knows. Maybe something at the zoo or proposing in the tube at the aquarium’s shark tank? No, too crowded. You’ve never liked crowds and you suffer from social anxiety. He knows you’d probably say yes but mostly from the pressure of any witnesses. He wants you to say yes because you genuinely mean it. 

Then it comes to him. The perfect idea. Luckily, it’s June, which means the weather won’t be a problem. That night when you get home from running an errand that took you longer than it should have, he kisses you like he always does, but there’s something else behind it you can put a finger on. Some kind of desperation. He looks hot as ever in his blue plaid button down. You like to tease him by stating he looks like a lumberjack, especially when he hasn’t shaved for a few days. You love his scruffy look though, so he typically keeps his beard trimmed the way you like. 

When you walk into the kitchen, you find he’s already got dinner started. You love whenever he does this, it takes pressure off of you. His hands suddenly grab your shoulders from behind and he starts massaging them. You tilt your head back and let out a moan, making him chuckle. 

“Hey,” he says after kissing your neck. “I wanna go up to the lake. You too overloaded with work for that?” 

“No,” you say. “I can spare a few hours of free time to go up there. Unless you wanna push it to the weekend?” 

“With everyone else?” he says. “No. I want it to be just you and me, darlin’.” 

He kisses your neck again, sending goose bumps down your entire body. “Okay, cowboy,” you say. He chuckles at the nickname. 

“Water’s boiling,” you say and he lets you go to take care of it. 

A few days later, you’re both in Arthur’s truck driving up to the lake in the mountains. It’s a good 45 minutes away, mostly consisting of winding roads through thick forests and canyons, but you’re definitely not going to complain. Arthur loves the way your eyes sparkle when you see the forest. He rolls down the windows so the scent of it floods the car and he laughs when you take in a deep breath, your long hair streaming out the window. He drives slower than usual so you can really enjoy the view and the smell. 

The lake finally comes into view at the bottom of a tall mountain and he pulls the car over at an overlook sight so you can get out. You look at him curiously, he’s never done this before. You decide not to question him and just get out, taking in the view. It really is stunning. From up here, the lake looks much smaller but it sparkles in the sun. Arthur thinks it has nothing when it comes to your eyes. He holds your hand as you both look down at it. After a few moments, he suggests moving on. 

The truck finally pulls into the public parking lot and you get out, pulling out the fishing poles and tackle box. Arthur knows you like to fish, even though you don’t have the greatest luck, much like himself. You like doing it though because it allows the world to slow down but you still have something to do with your hands. 

You and Arthur walk hand in hand down the boardwalk skirting around the east side of the lake. It’s not the biggest you’ve been to, but it’s definitely one of the most gorgeous. The forest goes right down to the edge of the water and it’s not uncommon to find wild flowers and see lots of wildlife. While you look around at the trees, the water, everything, but he’s staring at you as you walk. The way your hair shines in the sun, how the light kisses your shoulders. The way you hold yourself proudly. The shape of your nose, your chin, your lips. Everything of yours. He desperately wants to ask you then and there, but he wants it to be perfect because you’ve been so perfect for him. 

Along the boardwalk, you step out into a meadow. People don’t walk along it because it’s usually flooded with lake water, but those determined enough to face the mushy grass can walk onto what you call the island, which is really just a bubble of land attached to the shore by a thin strip of grass and mud. Arthur asks if you want to go to the island and you, of course, nod. You love the island. No one else goes to it because they don’t want to get their shoes muddy and it’s only big enough for maybe a dozen people to stand on amidst the trees and bushes. But that is why you love it. And it’s the perfect spot. 

When you get to the island, you begin positioning yourself at a good spot to start fishing. The sun’s dipping to the west, meaning the fish will start biting soon. However, Arthur grabs your pole and sets it down before taking your hands. 

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Something I been wantin’ to do for a long time,” he says in his gruff voice. He plays with your fingers for a moment, searching for the right words. “Darlin’, I… I’m in love with you. I know you know that, I said it often enough.” 

You blush and look down before smiling up at him. “I love you too Arthur.” 

“That ain’t what I came up here with you to say, though,” he says, clearly scrambling for the right words. He shuffles his feet nervously. “Darlin’, before I met you, I was happy with my life, I didn’t think I needed anything else. But then you came along and it was like I’d seen the moon for the first time. Radiant and completely necessary. I always want ya around, darlin’. I couldn’t imagine what my life would be like without ya.” 

He’s about to take out the ring when he sees your face fall, your smile fading away. You suddenly shake your head, your brows furrowed as you stare at his feet. 

“You don’t mean me, Arthur,” you say, pain in your voice. “You… deserve someone so much better than me. Someone pretty and… and skinny.”

His heart breaks when he hears your words. “Darlin’, you’re gorgeous. So what if you’re not like one of them CW girls or a size 6? Can I tell you somethin’?” He puts a finger under your chin and lifts it so you look at him. “If everyone’s body matched the beauty inside ‘em, you’d be the most beautiful woman who ever lived.”

Your eyes suddenly sparkle again, making his stomach flip. “Darlin’, I wanna marry you.” 

Your heart leaps into your throat as he takes a knee and pulls out the ring. He looks up at you, not saying anything, and waits. Tears spring to your eyes and you nod. “Yes, Arthur. I love you so much, I’m scared of thinking what life would be like without you. Yes, yes.” 

He smiles like a kid seeing his presents on Christmas Day and he stands up, slides on the ring and pulls you into a tight hug. His heart pounds in your ear and then he pulls away to kiss you. 

“Thank you, darlin’. The happiest man in the world wouldn’t feel as ecstatic as I do right now. I love you.” 

–

After Arthur’s proposal, he treated you to dinner at your favorite restaurant in town (even if it is just a burger diner). As he drove you home to his ranch, a familiar light came into his eyes and you know what he wanted. It sent tingles down your body and between your legs. 

The moment you get into the house, he pins you against the wall and kisses you hard. His hands start feeling you up, but you push him away and dash into the bedroom. He chases you in but you grab him and throw him down onto the bed. You climb up onto him and rip open his shirt. God, he’s so fucking sexy. Working on a ranch all his life has kept him firm and strong, even though you sometimes make fun of him for his farmer’s tan. He has just the right amount of hair on his chest and stomach, a dark streak leading from his stomach to below his belt.

You start kissing his neck and down to his chest, making him groan. You kiss your way down to his pants and quickly unbuckle them, desperate to see him. His length springs out and you immediately take it into your hands. His hips buck slightly, but you don’t want to get him worked up too quickly. 

You release him and sit up straight, stripping out of your shirt. Arthur’s eyes immediately go to your tits and you smile, reaching back and undoing the clasp of your bra. You feel his response beneath you as you throw your bra across the room. His hands reach up and grab your breasts, squeezing and pinching your nipples. You put your hands over his and stare hard into his eyes, panting a little. 

He suddenly flips you onto your back and undoes your pants, sliding them off your legs. Then he hovers over you, his eyes dark. 

“Mind if I try somethin’ new on you, darlin’?” 

You love that he always asks before doing so and you nod. He quickly strips himself and then grabs your knees, spreading them. His eyes rake over your body until he finds your slit. It makes you shiver with anticipation. His right hand leaves your knee and goes right to your folds, spreading them and his finger finds your clit with ease. His fingers are so warm and calloused, it doesn’t take long for your heat to grow to a boiling point. Arthur’s always been talented at finding your buttons and making you come. He’s the only man you’ve ever slept with who even knew where your clit is, nonetheless how to tease you and make you explode. You remember for a second how your second boyfriend was adamant that the female orgasm wasn’t real. Arthur’s well experienced in the reality of them. 

He plays with your clit and teases your nub until you’re writhing beneath him, your heart pounding in your ears. Your knees are starting to shake and a bubble is starting to grow in your stomach, fixing to be popped. He suddenly removes his hand. 

“Arthur, please-” you gasp. You open your eyes and find him smiling darkly down at you. Suddenly, he lowers himself and his tongue slides into your folds. His bumpy tongue studies your anatomy and then he begins to suck. You clench the bedsheets to avoid ramming your hips into his face. The warmth and moisture of his mouth is almost enough to make you go off, but with the addition of his sucking, your quickly fixing to burst. 

“Oh God! Oh Arthur!” you scream out, the bubble quickly inflating and then bursting. He sucks again and again, further stimulating you and prolonging your orgasm. You finally let out a loud yelp, you simply can’t take anymore. “Arthur, please!” you cry out, your eyes getting wetter. 

He pulls away finally, wiping his chin dry. He smiles at you. You pant beneath him and then push him down, grabbing his cock and pumping him with a firm hand. He groans and you drag the fingernails of your free hand down his chest and stomach. He moans and pants beneath you as you take complete control of him. You study his length with your hand, memorizing everything about it. It’s curved slightly, but it’s convenient because it fits you perfectly and the curved tip is able to brush your spot with ease. You hunger for the feeling now. 

You stop pumping him so you can angle your hips over his and then sink down onto him. He feels so good as he fills you up. He groans again and he starts thrusting up into you. His hand goes back to tease your clit as his cock brushes your spot over and over again with each thrust, sending you hurtling towards the edge again. His other hand squeezes your hip as his thrusts become more erratic and he starts losing his rhythm. He’s close. 

“Shit, Arthur,” you hiss. He chuckles and teases your throbbing nob with his fingers. They go back to tease your sensitive clit and then without warning, you let out a sharp yelp as your orgasm pulses through your body. He grins wickedly and rubs you again and again, sending jerks down to your toes as he prolonges your explosion again. 

“Keep it goin’, darlin’,” he grunts. 

“Arthur, I…. I can’t…. I’m gonna… gonna…” You pant as another orgasm threatens to overtake you.

“Let it go, sweetheart,” he says, thrusting into you as he circles your clit again and again. On command, you release yourself onto him, turning into jelly as a low scream exits your lungs. As if waiting for you, he suddenly pulls out and releases himself, making a mess on both your stomachs. 

“Fuck,” you pant, coming back down to earth. He smiles from down beneath you and then looks down at your joined hips. 

“God, darlin’, you know how to make a man happy.” 

“Arthur, you did all the work. Let me return the favor,” you say. You slide off of him and begin pumping him with your hands again. Adding to his pleasure, you start kissing all over his neck, chest and stomach. His length is pulsing in your hands, slippery from your own slick. One hand continues to slide up and down his shaft as the other leaves to study the tip, gliding along the slit.

“Fuck!” he groans, his hips bucking up and then he explodes in your hands, adding to the mess on him. You continue pumping him, torturing him as he’d done with you. “Oh, darlin’, please!” 

You giggle and then climb back onto him. He grunts and pushes you down again, his length never leaving your folds. He pounds himself into you, clearly working his frustration out on you. He kisses your neck, sucking and licking as your hands squeeze his back. 

Within seconds, he releases himself into you. It’s the first time he’s done that. He’s always been careful about not putting his spend into you, but you clearly overworked him. 

“Shit,” he says, slumping down onto you. You pat him so he’ll stop crushing you. Your legs are kept spread by his hips, the heat fading into a pleasant fizzle, although you’re definitely going to hurt in the morning. He kisses you soft and gentle, so different from a few moments ago.

“Come on, beautiful,” he says. “Let’s get a shower going.”


	17. Arthur asks reader for a date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hello there, could you write some cute headcanons of Arthur falling in love and trying to win the reader's heart then asks her out but he's nervous and scared since all his past ones were a failure?

Arthur’s been watching you for weeks. Ever since you joined the gang, he’s been attracted to you and has wanted to get to know you. From the beginning however, he told himself not to get involved. He gave up on love a long time ago, it simply wasn’t worth the pain. However, whenever he sees you smiling or laughing, he can’t help but feel something for you. 

When he’s in camp, he likes hanging around you, despite telling himself over and over again not to get involved. You remember once sitting at the fire and just talking a little bit about your past life, how it led you to the gang. You glanced at him sitting across from you and seeing that he looked sad and even a little angry. And he was a little sad and angry. He wanted to find the people who hurt you, betrayed you, sent you on the path to being an outlaw. You were too sweet and kind to have had those things done to you. 

When you first joined the gang, Arthur would pass by and greet you like he did to everyone else. If you needed anything, he got it for you. But after a couple of weeks, he started to avoid you. You wondered if you did something wrong, if maybe you offended him. If you wandered over to a place where he was, he’d make up some excuse and leave. You found him attractive and underneath his tough exterior, he really was a sweet, thoughtful and kind man. But when he began to avoid you, it was obvious he didn’t feel the same way. He probably wanted to let you down easy but didn’t know what to say. It caused you to withdraw within yourself when he was around. 

He really didn’t want to avoid you, but he knew it was for the best. He wanted nothing more than to see you smile, make you laugh, hold you in his arms. Kiss your lips. But he was scared, and he knew love was not something he was going to have in the future. He’d given up on it after Eliza and Mary. Besides, how could someone as beautiful and sweet and passionate as you be interested in an outlaw like him? He didn’t think he could bear the pain of your rejection, so he decided to keep his distance from you simply to protect himself and you. 

His attractions to you didn’t go unnoticed. Some of the others in camp definitely noticed the way he watched you, the way his hands would linger on yours when you handed him a cup of coffee or he brought you something. The way the corners of his eyes crinkled when you laughed, the way he laughed at your jokes. It was obvious he was smitten but simply wouldn’t make a move. 

One day he’s leaning on a tree in camp. He’s a bit irritated with himself. He’d let himself get too physically close and the wind picked up and blew a strand of hair in your face. He brushed it away behind your ear, which left his fingers (and your cheek) feel as though they’d been lit on fire. He couldn’t afford to let himself slip like that again. He needed to keep his distance.

Uncle walks up behind him just as you’re walking past several yards away to go see the horses. Arthur’s eyes are trained on you as usual. “Ah, there goes Y/N,” Uncle says. “Of course, I’m sure at any time of day you’d know where she’d be at, Arthur.” 

“What you talkin’ about, ol’ man?” Arthur growls. 

“Oh come on, Arthur. Don’t tell me you ain’t sweet on her. Ain’t no shame in it. She’s a beautiful girl, you could do a lot worse. Hell, I know you done worse.” 

Arthur winces a little. No one but Hosea knows about Eliza, so Uncle’s clearly talking about Mary. “Shut up, Uncle. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Oh sure, I don’t know what I’m talkin’ about,” Uncle chuckles. “Because I ain’t noticed the way you watch her, how you laugh harder than anybody else when she tells a joke. Hell, you couldn’t be more obvious even if you were sittin’ there in front of her holdin’ a book you wrote yourself that says nothin’ but how much you like her.” 

Arthur sighs heavily. He really doesn’t want to deal with Uncle and he knows Uncle sees right through him. “Step off, ya ol’ drunk.” 

“I tell ya what.” Uncle gestures to you as you feed your horse some treats, patting his neck. “You go up to that girl, ask her out for dinner. If you do that, I’ll never bother you again.” 

“I said step off, Uncle. You’re crazy, or you been drinkin’ too much again.” 

“No I ain’t had a drink since noon. Here, I’ll sweeten the deal. You ask her and don’t chicken out, and if she says yes, I’ll pay you five dollars.” 

Arthur sighs again. The idea of taking Uncle’s money is tempting, but he’s absolutely sure you’ll say no and then he’ll owe Uncle five dollars. “Aim higher,” he grumbles. 

“Fine, ten dollars. I ain’t got much more than that on me. Or you can chicken out and just pay me right now.” 

Arthur rolls his eyes. He’s been wanting to ask you out forever, but he can’t help but telling himself there’s no hope. It’d be a pointless venture that would end in himself or both of you in a lot of pain. Uncle reaches in his pocket and takes out his money, flipping through the bills and counting them. He does so slowly, clearly tempting Arthur. 

“Fine,” Arthur growls. “I’ll do it just to make sure you shut up. But you better not be playin’ me.” 

Uncle just chuckles to himself as Arthur straightens up and begins walking over to you. His palms are sweaty and he’s muttering to himself, trying to think of what to say. He feels so stupid and he’s grateful you’re back is to him as he continues talking quietly. “Hey, you seem real interestin’, let me take you to dinner. No that’s stupid. Just tell her the truth, Uncle paid me to take you to dinner. Gah, you’re a damn fool, Morgan.” 

His heart is pounding when he finally reaches you and he doesn’t know what to say. You notice him and look over, giving him a smile to make his heart completely stop. 

“Hi, Arthur,” you say, your eyes sparkling. God, he’d love nothing more than to stare at them forever and see that smile a thousand times. 

“Hey, Y/N,” he says. He can feel himself blushing and he hides his face beneath his hat. “Hey, listen um… I was wonderin’,…. Well…. I thought maybe you’d like to um, get out of camp and grab somethin’ nice to eat… with me. Not as a date, obviously, I just…. Noticed you been in camp a long time and might need a break.” He’s rambling at this point and he can feel his whole face burning. Your face is blank as you listen to him. “You know what, never mind,” he grumbles. “I’m bein’ stupid, just forget I said anything.” 

He starts walking away but you reach over and take his hand. “Mr. Morgan,” you say, giving him that smile again. “Arthur. I’d love to go to dinner with you.” 

As he predicted, his heart stops and then he smiles back. “Well…. Well good. Um, I guess we could go now if you wanted?” He hopes you don’t notice how sweaty his hand is in yours and he silently thanks you for not letting his hand go and wiping it dry on your clothes. Instead, your smile widens. “Okay, Arthur.”

You can’t believe your luck. Arthur Morgan, the man you’ve been harboring a secret crush on for what feels like forever, just asked you out to dinner. You know he’s not doing it as a joke because his blush and stammering was too authentic. He tells you he’s going to put on something a little nicer and, as he’s walking away, you swear there’s a slight skip in his step. It makes your heart beat quicken and butterflies flit around inside your chest and stomach. Tilly and Karen walk past, throwing you knowing looks. 

“Shut up,” you say, your face burning. “We’re just friends.”


	18. Horseback riding lessons - Modern Arthur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chubby Arthur with a chubby female reader. Modern times. Can be smutty af. (Haha I’m kinda slutty for my Artie). He’s teaching her about riding horses and next thing you know.....

You sigh a little nervously. Are you really ready to do this? What if you make a complete fool of yourself? What if he laughs at you? You’ll probably look ridiculous the entire time. What if you enjoy it too much and you make some goofy face? God, this was a bad idea, you tell yourself. 

“You ready?” Arthur asks, walking up to you. 

You open your eyes, swallowing. Okay, deciding to take horseback riding lessons was a mistake, you’re sure of that now. But why in the hell did your instructor have to be so damn good looking?

You graduated college a year ago and now that you have a good paying job and are fairly stable in your living situation, you decided to go looking on the internet for some things to do with your free time. Some new hobby to develop. Something active. You looked at maybe doing archery or just plain old hiking, and while you liked doing them, they weren’t enough to really keep you going for a long time. Besides, your archery instructor kept pushing you to buy your own gear and that shit’s expensive, so you dropped it. Then you ran into an ad about horseback riding lessons and the fees weren’t out of your range like a lot of the others. 

You pat the horse’s neck that you’ve just tied up to the post. She’s a dapple gray mare named Willow. Arthur explained when you first got here that she’s the best with beginners. He has five horses total, including a massive iron gray draft horse. He showed you how to interact with Willow, how to put a halter on and then how to tie her to the post outside his tack room. That’s where you are now after he left to grab some grooming tools. 

“Ma’am, you ready?” he says again. You finally nod, feeling like a damn fool. He’s an attractive man, more on the plump side but you can tell he’s still very fit. You’re chubby yourself, a struggle you’ve had for most of your life. It’s also been one of your biggest insecurities. There’s no way in hell this man finds you attractive. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly polite and has a gruff voice, the kind that could turn you to butter. 

He hands you a grooming brush and shows you how to brush Willow. Then he shows you how to clean Willow’s feet with a pick and then has you do it. She’s a patient and obedient horse, to which you’re grateful. When she’s all brushed and clean, Arthur comes out with a blanket and a big saddle. He shows you how to position the blanket and then throws the saddle over her back. Then he shows you how tight to put the girth around Willow’s belly and how to measure and adjust the stirrups. Then he shows you how to bridle her. He undoes everything and tells you to repeat it. He’s a firm believer in hands-on learning, which you appreciate. 

After she’s saddled up, you lead Willow outside with Arthur. He’s glad you had the knowledge to buy yourself some gear before showing up, mostly the riding boots and a helmet. He admits he never wears one himself, but he grew up on horses so he’s pretty confident in his riding skills. 

“Never go without a helmet until you know how to ride backwards, forwards and upside down,” he says. 

In the round pen, he teaches you how to mount. When you’re finally on Willow’s back, he asks how it feels. It feels good, even if it is taller than you thought it’d be. Arthur just has you walk around the round pin for the next half hour so you can get used to the horse moving beneath you and get your balance. He’s surprised how well you’re able to balance yourself. 

Over the lesson, you keep catching him looking at you, but you can’t tell if he’s just making sure you don’t fall off or get ahead of yourself. It’s probably just wishful thinking, but you swear he seems to always have a small smile when he’s looking at you. Like you said, there’s no way he finds you attractive. 

Over the course of the next few weeks, you have a few more lessons and have graduated to trotting and doing simple work like pirouetting and other types of turns. Arthur says it’s all important so you can really learn how to feel your horse and build that unique bond of trust between horse and rider. It’s tough work that always leaves you sweating a little, not to mention sore. After your first lesson, you could barely walk normally because of how saddle sore you were. 

You swear Arthur’s been flirting with you a little more and more each time you’ve come for a lesson. Banter between you comes easily and you learn a lot about each other. However, by your sixth lesson, you struggle to look him in the eye thanks to the fact you’d had a wet dream about him. It had been amazing too, the things he did to you were just wonderful. You’re determined to keep it a secret. 

The tenth lesson, as you’re unsaddling Willow, Arthur strolls up to you, looking nervous. Oh no, he’s about to tell you he can’t continue teaching you for some reason. Is he about to sell his ranch? Is he selling Willow?! You love Willow, she’s a fantastic horse. Oh no, what is he about to announce? You’ve come so far with these lessons, they’ve been an incredible amount of fun. 

He rubs his neck nervously. “Hey, uh, Y/N. I was wonderin’, well…” He stutters a bit. “I understand if you ain’t interested or if you got plans. And I certainly don’t wanna step on any toes if you already got someone, but…” He finally looks at you with those beautiful blue eyes. They were the first thing you noticed about him. “I’d love to take ya out to dinner. Tomorrow, if you’re free?” 

You must be tired or hungry or dehydrated or something. No way in hell did Arthur Morgan, your horse riding instructor and certified hottie, just ask you out on a date. There’s no way in hell! You must take too long to process this because he begins to stammer again. “I didn’t mean…. If ya already got a boyfriend, or a girlfriend even, I certainly don’t wanna intrude. Sorry if I offended ya.” 

He begins walking away, his face red. You come to your senses, realizing you didn’t make it up. “Arthur, wait! Sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you hanging. I thought… well, I thought I was just hallucinating or something. To be honest, I’ve wanted to ask you out forever but just… didn’t think you’d want to.” Great, now you’re the one rambling. “Arthur, I’d love to go to dinner with you.” 

You’ve never seen him smile so wide. “Well, that’s great, Y/N.” The two of you set time and details and then you say goodbye. His eyes are sparkling when you leave and you feel like you’re floating the entire way home. You can’t believe it. A date with Arthur Morgan! He’s gotta have dozens of women drooling at his feet, you know he teaches other people to ride. You’ve seen a couple of them. So why in the hell did he ask you out? You’re just a normal girl, there’s nothing about you that you find interesting. Not in personality and definitely not in looks. 

The next day, you try to find something nice to wear. Not anything too formal of course, but something nice. You end up just putting on a clean pair of jeans and a tank top with a plaid button down shirt, leaving it open. There. A safe, nice and casual look that still says you know how to have fun. 

Arthur knocks on your door and when you open it, you can’t help but let your mouth fall slightly open. He was always good looking before but now he’s down right sexy. He’s in a pair of jeans, his signature cowboy boots, and a blue plaid button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His shirt’s only buttoned up to halfway up his chest, revealing some of the hair growing on his chest. You remember your sex dream involving him and resist the urge to just rip his shirt open. You doubt you’ll ever get to that point with him. 

At dinner, the two of you get on famously. You chat at the table for well over two hours. But after having a few drinks, your resolve to not be overly sexual towards him is beginning to slip. 

“I think I need more riding lessons,” you say, slurring slightly. “Maybe you can help me more?” 

His eyes spark at you, a dark look in them and he wears an illegally sexy grin. “Oh, I can certainly do that, darlin’.” 

Okay, you’re already hot for this guy. Jesus, you’re not even intimate with him and he’s already pushing your buttons. You think somewhat woefully about how you’ll probably end up feeling lonely while using your vibrator again later tonight. 

However, when you walk out with Arthur to his truck, slightly tipsy, he stops you and then slowly bends down and kisses you. His lips are like fire. They awaken some kind of heat within you that has nothing to do with sex. It feels incredible and you find yourself wanting more when he pulls away. You reach up, tangling your hands in his hair, and kiss him back. Your hand wanders down from his head to his chest where you start rubbing his collarbone, your fingertip barely touching it. His response is undeniable and he groans. “Your house?” he says, his breath picking up. You just nod and kiss him again. 

The next thing you know, you’re in his truck and he’s speeding down the road towards your house. Now is the time for you to start freaking out. Are you really going to sleep with him on the first date? Technically, you’ve spent a lot of alone time with him, but they were never dates. Was this his goal all along? Just getting you into bed and having fun and then, next thing you know, he’s just your instructor again or worse, he disappears? Should you be doing this?

He must be able to tell you’re freaking out because he reaches over and takes your hand. “Sweetheart, you feelin’ okay?” You look at him. “I, um, I don’t want you to think I do this on every first date, Arthur. Because I don’t. Hell, I’ve never fooled around with anyone until after our third date.” He chuckles and brings your hand up to kiss it. “I understand. And I don’t want ya to think I’m tryin’ to take advantage of you.” 

He pulls up to your house and he stops, but doesn’t get out. “Listen, we don’t have to if you don’t feel ready.” Okay, you’re already hard core falling for him. First, he’s hot, he’s sweet and kind, and now he’s patient and he doesn’t wanna push you. You reach over and kiss him. “Thank you, Arthur. I think… if we did it tonight, we’d probably end up regretting it.” 

He nods and then walks you to the door. There, he gives you another kiss. This one’s more passionate, yet not pushy. In it, he says he’s already crazy about you. 

After the first date, the riding lessons have changed only slightly. There’s more touching and kissing, plus Arthur doesn’t hide his flirting anymore. You’ve gone on a few more dates but still haven’t done the nasty with him. He hasn’t pushed for it either, but you can tell you’re getting close to breaking that. 

During one riding lesson, he shows you a slightly tricky maneuver and you try to copy it but end up just slipping off the horse and falling into the sand. He runs over, asking if you’re okay. You are, the only thing injured is your pride. He chuckles when you get up, clearly unhurt. “Now you’re a real cowgirl!” he says with a laugh. “Falling off is a right of passage, sweetheart.” 

“I just lost my balance is all,” you say, brushing your jeans off. The sexual tension throughout the day has been stronger than ever. He touches your shoulder. “Maybe you need a little more practice,” he says. 

Before you can stop yourself, you’re kissing him, your arms wrapped around him. He groans against your lips and you reach down, squeezing his crotch. It immediately grows hard. Arthur pushes you away just slightly and he grabs your hand, running into the stable and into an empty stall where he stores hay and sawdust. 

As soon as he gets there, you’re attacking him. The first thing you do is rip open his shirt. Fuck, he’s even hotter than you thought. You start kissing his chest and stroking his nipples. He tips his head back as one hand wanders down to his belt and undoes it. In your desperation to see him unsheathed, you fumble with his belt. Eventually you get it undone and his pants unbuttoned. You reach in and grab him, his length already hard. His hips buck a little. 

“Hey,” he groans. “Let me give you another riding lesson.” 

You shiver and nod. He lifts up your shirt and rips it off and then unclasps your bra. He stares at your naked breasts for a moment and then you reach down and strip off your pants. Now you’re completely naked in front of him. He smiles as he studies your body and then he strips his own clothes off. 

Once you’re both exposed, he lays down on his back, his cock standing erect. He gestures down at it. “Come on, cowgirl. Time for your lesson.” 

You almost giggle at how cheesy he is, but you comply. You kneel down, straddling his hips but keeping his length away from your slit. You kind of wish there was something in the terms of foreplay. He must sense your hesitation. His hands latch onto your hips and he starts rubbing up your sides and finds your breasts. You tilt your head back as he strokes your nipples, making the already stiff nubs perk out even more. 

Eventually one hand leaves your breast and slides down between your legs. “Damn, you’re wet,” he says. You sigh in pleasure and then he slips a finger into your soaking slit, making you yelp. He tickles you, your breath picking up. You involuntarily twitch on him and then he pushes a finger into you. “Think you’re ready, cowgirl,” he says after a few moments of you fucking his hand. 

You nod and sit up a little, grabbing his stiff cock. You pump it a few times and then angle your hips directly above it, settling down onto him. He feels good as he fills you up. He goes in deep and then, without warning, he begins pushing himself in and out of you. You can’t help but moan with every push and bounce along with him, creating even more friction between the two of you. You look down at him. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are filled with lust. He’s left his old hat on. To be expected, you suppose. You’ve never seen him with it off. 

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he growls. You gasp again as he puts his hand back to your slit, tickling your clit. He’s the first man you’ve done this who has actually taken the time to make sure you get your pleasure. 

“Keep going,” you squeak. “Oh God, Arthur, it feels good.” He stimulates you again and again, your hips wildly bucking as his cock pulses within you. He pushes himself up a little harder, brushing your spot as he slides his finger across your clit again. You clench your toes and groan loudly, turning into jelly on him. “Good girl,” he says in a deep voice. “You’re alright. Easy.” 

Just as you’re coming down and about to put yourself back together, he flips you onto your back so he can really pound himself into you. He’s going so hard you’re sure it’ll hurt in the morning, but you don’t care. He feels amazing. You clutch his back, leaving behind small scratches as he thrusts again and again, chasing his own end. After a short time, he finally pulls out and releases onto your thighs and the hay beneath you. “Shit,” he says when he’s finished spilling out. 

You cup his cheek and smile up at him. “Did I do good?” you ask. He smiles and kisses you. “I think we might need another lesson.”


	19. Arthur gains weight - Modern Arthur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Arthur and female reader where they’re together for around a year, year and a half. Arthur starts to get chubby. (Reader is chubby herself). He gets self conscious about himself. Oh how I’d love to see this play out.

Warnings: smut 

You and Arthur have been together for good years. You can still remember how things were when you first got together. Arthur had been a very fit man in the beginning, thanks to his job as a rancher. You were chubby to begin with and had always been conscious about it, but Arthur did everything in his power to lift you up. He found you beautiful and he didn’t associate beauty with weight. On your bad days when you told yourself aloud that you were fat, he told you that fat didn’t mean ugly and he’d never see you that way. 

When you’d been together for over six months, you asked Arthur if you could move in with him. You’re living situation wasn’t ideal as you were getting tired of your roomate’s string of loser boyfriends as she seemed to have a new one every month and they all seemed to be worse than the last. You were tired of watching her ruin her life despite you trying to talk her out of the habit of dating douchebags, so you decided to move in with Arthur. He was ecstatic when you did and he helped you move within the next few days. 

A year later, you were still living with Arthur and he finally popped the question, to which of course you said yes. He was so sweet and he’d taken you to your favorite trail and asked you the question. He’d obviously gone to the trail before taking you there and decorated parts of the trail with paper lanterns and solar ground lights, making it even prettier. He was so nervous and cute as you were walking that you were automatically suspicious, but you still cried when he got on his knee and asked you to marry him. 

A few months after your engagement, you noticed that Arthur was gaining some weight. Not a huge amount, but just some fluff around the edges. You didn’t mind at all, after all you had no room to talk. In fact, you found you rather liked it. There was more give to his body when you hugged him. 

Your two year anniversary since you got together is approaching and you’ve noticed Arthur’s been down the last few days. He’s been hesitant to touch you and he’s been tugging at his shirt a lot. He’s not really fat, but he’s definitely got a bit more plumpiness than he did when you first dated him. 

You walk into your shared bedroom that night and find him standing in front of the mirror on the dresser with his shirt off, clearly inspecting his torso. He’s frowning at his reflection. 

“What’s going on, Arthur?” you ask. 

He sighs heavily. “Darlin’, I… why you still datin’ me? Hell, why you even marryin’ me?” 

“What, Arthur? Why would you ask me something like that?” 

He finally breaks his eyes from the mirror and to you. “Look at me, Y/N. I ain’t skinny no more. Not like I was. I always been an ugly bastard, but now I’m gettin’ thick. I mean, look at me.” 

You sigh, your heart breaking. You’ve known since almost the beginning that Arthur’s never had a high opinion of himself, even when he was firm. You walk over to him and wrap your arms around his neck. “Arthur Morgan. You are still handsome. Now what is that phrase you say when I say I’m fat?” 

“Fat don’t mean ugly. It’s just a word,” he says, folding his arms around your waist. 

“Exactly. It’s just a word. It doesn’t mean I love you any less than I ever have or that I’m going to stop loving you. In fact, you wanna know something? I read an article just the other day that says a study was done that shows that when two people get together and gain weight after having been together for a long period of time? It means they’re happy and confident in their relationship.” 

He smiles finally, blushing. “So you’re happy with me?” 

“I’ve never been happier, Arthur. Now do I make you happy?” 

He rubs a thumb across your cheek. “More than you know.” 

You smile and bite your lip. “Let’s put that to the test, hmm? I wanna show you how happy you make me.” 

You unfold your arms, your hands travelling down his torso, tangling your fingers in his chest and stomach hair. You study the trail of hair running down to his pants and then grab the band of his lounge pants and pull down, exposing his length. He’s only partially hard, so you quickly grab him and begin pumping. He tilts his head back as his cock grows firm and begins twitching. 

You’ve never done this before due to your own opinions on women getting on their knees to pleasure men, but right now you just want Arthur to know how much you love him and how you’re willing to swallow your pride to show him that. You slip down to your knees and study his length for a moment, noticing the thick vein running down to his purple head. 

You look up at Arthur, his eyes glued to you. You can tell he wants to ask what you’re doing, but before he has a chance, you put your mouth around him. He gasps as you take him in, sucking and bobbing around him. You pull him out for a few seconds to lick his shaft, your right hand cradling his balls. He groans, his hands winding into your hair. 

“Oh my God, darlin’,” he groans. You take him back in your mouth and his hips buck into you. He’s careful not to push himself too far into your mouth in order not to make you sick (to which you’re grateful) and you begin sucking again. His moaning picks up again and his breathing gets faster. 

You pull him out again and wrap both your hands around his shaft, pumping harder than you could with your head. You look at his cock and see that he’s begun leaking fluids. He’s close and his hips are twitching as he tries not to buck too hard. You kiss his stomach, your hands still working away. 

Arthur grunts loudly as your finger circles his dark head and he suddenly releases onto the floor. You’re quietly grateful the floor’s hardwood so it’ll be easy cleanup. His breathing slows down and he looks down at you, his eyes full of happiness and love. 

“Thank ya, sweetheart,” he says, his thumb stroking your cheek. “You want me to repay the favor?” 

You stand up, folding your arms around him. “Arthur, I did that to show you how much I love you. I did it without thought of you doing anything in return.” 

He grins wickedly. “Well, I want to anyway.” 

He picks you up and slams you down on the bed on your back. Before you have a chance to readjust yourself, he’s ripping your pants off. He places his hands on your knees and smiles down at you. “You ready, darlin’?” Arthur asks. You can only nod. 

He bends down, kissing from your left knee, down your inner thigh and then to your slit. He spreads your folds open with his hand, exposing you to the cool air. His warm fingers slide across your nub and to your clit, making you begin to tremble. He rubs you again as he kisses your thigh again. You beg him when he removes fingers and he responds by running his tongue through your slit. You groan, spreading your legs even farther apart, as he licks you. He begins sucking on your clit, slow but hard. It’s your turn to begin panting and then his tongue flicks out, twitching your core. 

“You close, sweetheart? You’re shaking hard,” he asks in his gruff voice. 

“God. You’re close. Keep going.” Your hands wander down to tangle into his hair. He just chuckles and licks you again before sucking you hard. The bubble within your lower gut suddenly pops, releasing as he sucks repeatedly. You involuntarily lift your hips as your orgasm rips through your body, making you squeal from the pleasure. 

Arthur chuckles and lifts away from your lower torso and wipes his chin dry. “There, darlin’. You know, maybe I need to think lowly of myself more often if it always ends up like this.” 

“Don’t push your luck, Mr. Morgan,” you giggle, patting his hand on your knee. 

He smiles and lifts your hand to kiss it. “I can only hope, Mrs. Morgan. I love you.”


	20. The Mermaid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Holà ! Could you write an imagine / headcanon about Arthur meeting a mermaid ( maybe in Guarma ) and falling for her ? And you can choose the ending ( but not too sad please he deserved better )

When Arthur found himself stranded on the beach after the boat wrecked, he was horrible disorientated. A mixture of exhaustion, heat stroke, dehydration, and a horrible burning in his lungs didn’t make anything better. The ground was white hot and he could barely see when he opened his eyes. Once they’d adjusted, he realized he was standing on sand with islands of grass and bushes. 

Hot. That’s the only sense his mind can process. unbearable heat. The sand burns his feet, the sun burns his face and eyes. The air is thick and soupy. Gulls cry happily as they soar above him. How can any living thing be happy in this place? Hell itself could not be worse. 

As he stumbles around the beach, he sees something sparkling on a large rock poking from the waves near the shore. He thinks it must be some water collected in the fissures of the rock, or perhaps some strange birds. He’s heard of sea turtles, maybe it’s coming from them. As he approaches, though, he sees a little better and it’s obvious that none of his previous impressions were correct. He’s looking at what looks like a woman. Or what looks partially like a woman from the waist up anyways. Where her legs should have been was instead a long, shimmering tail, the flukes trailing back and forth slowly. Her head was tipped back as though enjoying the rays of the sun, her long brown hair trailing over her chest and back. 

Arthur blinks multiple times. His condition must be making him go insane. She can’t possibly be real. He’s heard legends of course. He heard some drunken sailors at the saloon in Saint Denis discussing their sightings of mermaids, but ten minutes later they were black out drunk. Yet here she was, visible proof that perhaps they weren’t mistaken.

Arthur lifts his hand. “Y-you!” he calls, his voice weak. 

The woman looked to him, unafraid. She was very familiar with the land folk, her people called them. She was unimpressed with him. Sure, he was a large specimen, broad shouldered and barrel chested, but most men she’d seen wandering shores or atop their strange, massive floating carved trees were. Luckily for him, she wasn’t feeling particularly hungry. Land folk were regarding by her kind as a delicacy, but she had never grown to like the taste. There was just something about land meat she never craved. She preferred her usual game of fish and the other creatures that dwell in the ocean with her. 

She flashed him a smile though. Her pod would definitely appreciate her bringing in an offering of land folk. They were becoming harder to come by as their carved trees became more advanced. Faster and sturdier. A land folk who had been ship wrecked was the perfect target. 

“You there!” he yelled again, slightly stronger. 

“Arthur!” another land folk approaches him. Taller yet thinner in build with disheveled black hair and mustache. Three more men followed him and she knew it wasn’t safe. Luckily none of them saw her and she slipped quickly back into the water. Her sun bathing would have to continue later. 

Over the next few days, she saw the man again and again in the same spot as the first time. It was like he was looking for her. The boulder he’d seen her from happened to be her favorite sun bathing spot as it was easy to access and surrounded by deep water which made hiding easy. She knew the island was heavily populated despite its small size, making her vulnerable. 

The man seemed harmless enough, but he was clearly wary of her. She allowed him to spot her a handful of times, both in and out of the water. Despite how little she liked the taste of land folk, she was very good at hunting them. Something the matriarch of her pod was befuddled by. 

The third time the man came calling, she slid right to the edge of the water, allowing him to get the closest he’d ever been. She found herself growing curious about him. He wasn’t like other land folk she’d stalked and killed. He wasn’t frightened nor did he try and kiss her like some misguided sailors had. He was simply intrigued and she was too. 

Mayani, as was her name, soon learned the land folk’s name was Arthur Morgan. She learned, like all merfolk do, his native tongue along with the languages of other land folks. It was part of learning the hunt. She spoke with Arthur for many hours that first day and he told her many things about where he came from. He described the hot deserts, seas made of grass, mountains taller than the highest waves capped in snow. It was intriguing. In turn, Mayani , or Maya as she preferred, told him the secrets of the ocean. Listening to the haunting songs of whales, hunting giant squid, outrunning sharks, the colorful and vibrant corals and how to tell which kinds were safe to eat and which kinds were not. 

Arthur found himself longing to join Maya in her watery kingdom after a week had passed. Dutch was still working with Hercule in order to get off this god-forsaken island, and he felt envious of Maya and the freedom she had to come and go from it as she pleased. She told him that she was breaking her matriarch’s boundaries though. Last year, three of her pod members had been killed on the shores of this island by those who occupied it and the matriarch forbade the rest of the pod from returning. Maya still found the warm, shallow waters worth the risk, plus it offered some of the best foraging corals and hunting grounds. The temptation was too great. 

Arthur made her laugh easily. When he asked her if it was true that a mermaid’s kiss could give a sailor the ability to breathe underwater, she found it hysterical. A kiss could not change one’s abilities, she said. Nothing could do that. She learned that his kind were called humans. As they divulged more secrets of their lives to one another, they found that their species were not so different. Merfolk possessed their own cultures, though the females were the leaders and not the men. The females were also the only ones allowed to do hunting. The idea was that since they were the only ones to give life, they should be the only ones to take lives. The males spent their time foraging and helping raise the offspring. 

Arthur quickly became interested in the mermaid. She was beautiful, sure, but he found himself more attracted to her spirit than anything else. She was in a very similar position as he was in his own gang, the third highest ranking member of her pod but she enjoyed wandering the ocean on her own, though her loyalty was unwaverable. Arthur wished there was a way they could be together, but he knew that was impossible. She could not survive on land for more than a few hours, her tail and even skin was heavily dependent on the salt water. Without it, she would quickly dehydrate and die. He of course could not exist in the water. 

The time finally came when only one thing was left to do before he and the others could return to the mainland. Arthur approached his and Maya’s meeting spot with a somber expression. She was miserable too as someone in her pod had spotted her “fraternizing” (as her matriarch had put it) with a land folk on a forbidden island. This was the last time she’d be able to see him. They told each other how things were standing for themselves. Arthur didn’t want to leave her with nothing, but having no object to give, he kissed Maya gently. 

“Thank you,” he said. Maya smiled, but something about the way his lips tasted was off. She knew immediately he was sick. She told him to wait and then dived down and foraged for a rather rare coral that she knew grew around the island. It luckily didn’t take her long before she found the tiny organism and she gave it to him. 

“You’re very sick, Arthur,” she explained. “Your kind carry many sicknesses. If we didn’t learn to identify them, we’d get sick too. When we’ve eaten sick humans, we eat this coral and it cures us. You should do the same.” 

Arthur did not question. His lungs had been burning more than ever before and he’d developed quite a cough, so he studied the strange, bumpy coral. It was only the size of a quarter but the texture was awful. Squeezing his eyes, he swallowed the coral as quickly as he could, for Maya said cooking it would destroy its healing properties. She smiled at him when he had swallowed it and he kissed her one last time. 

“I promise,” he said. “I will never forget you.”

“I wish our paths could cross again,” she said. 

The sun was beginning to set and in the distance they heard Dutch calling Arthur’s name. He sighed heavily and brushed her cheek. “Thank you,” he said. He got up and walked away towards the voice. Maya watched him for a moment and then dipped into the water. She tried to imagine how things could have been between them in another world, but her matriarch had told her time and time again that wanting what could never be was the most fruitless venture of all.


	21. I bet I'm strong enough to pick you up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I bet I’m strong enough to pick you up.” reader jokingly telling Arthur. A funny scene and leaves him in awe and approves the effort for trying.

You sit at the round table, setting down the plate of Pearson’s apple cobbler. He made it as a special treat when Arthur, Karen, Bill and Lenny returned a few hours ago from robbing the bank in Valentine. Their take was exceptionally good and the law didn’t follow them too far. Spirits in camp were high as a result and Pearson’s rare but delightful treat helped even more so. 

Cain the dog barked happily as he chased some of the chickens and Jack chased him in turn, trying to get him to stop. Hosea was sitting around the fire telling some outrageous story about how he almost ended up as an actor in his youth. At another table, Tilly managed to talk Bill into playing domino, to which he was brilliantly losing and becoming more angry. John, Uncle and Strauss sit down at your table, prepared to play poker. They set down their plates of cobbler and play, dealing you in as well. You’re not the best poker player, but you enjoy the game. 

As you play, you continue glancing around camp. The gang has rare opportunities for festivities like this, but they’re always fun. Even Grimshaw’s calmer, relenting from her usual screeching and stomping around. Dutch has turned on his gramophone and you can see him dancing with Grimshaw now. Not far away is Arthur, twirling Karen around in a leisurely circle. She’s smiling, a rare sight. You can only imagine how nice it must feel to have Arthur holding her, his hand around hers and the other on her waist. 

You feel slightly envious, but you made a decision a long time ago, before you even joined the gang, you wouldn’t get caught up in another useless romance. They ended in nothing but pain and harsh words. Still, you developed a crush on Arthur not long after you joined the gang. The other girls knew it and they all admitted they harbored a secret admiration of the outlaw. After all, he was big and broad, he possessed the courage of a lion and would literally fight to the death but also held a heart of gold. It wasn’t unusual to hear his soft words of encouragement in his gruff voice, or to see him sitting down with Jack and showing him drawings from his journal. It was impossible to be around him and not feel something. You sigh, wishing things could be different. Wishing you hadn’t been so broken by your own number of failed relationships. 

However, you carried a suspicion that Arthur may have something for you too. Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking. Still, you don’t see him offering the other girls to come on jobs or to go out hunting. He taught you how to shoot a gun and you still remember the way his hands held yours for longer than was necessary. You remember after the gang fled Blackwater you ended up having to leave behind your hunting knife. There wasn’t anything special about it except that it was the only thing of your father’s that you had. He was an amazing father, but when you were just a teen someone shot and robbed him. He had given you the knife only a few nights before his death. When Arthur heard you saying how much you missed that old knife, he went and bought you another one with engravings on the blade and an expensive lacquered handle. It was far more handsome than your old, dull knife. 

As the night progresses, you end up stepping away from the poker game after losing a few too many dollars for your liking and take a bottle of whiskey. You sit around the fire, listening to the other’s stories for a while and drinking. It doesn’t take long before you can tell you’re on the verge of getting drunk, so you abandon the bottle and begin walking around, trying to work the buzz off. 

Over by the horses, Sean and Lenny are laughing with Arthur. The way Sean keeps lifting his arms and trying to make his biceps bulge attracts your attention, so you wander a little closer. 

“I bet I could take ya any day, ol’ man!” Sean brags to Arthur. “I’ve got surprising strength.” 

“The only thing you could lift is a bottle of gin, ya braggart,” Arthur replies. 

A’right, name the heaviest t’ing around here and I’ll pick it up!” Sean says.

Arthur chuckles. “Fine. Take your pick, ya Irish loudmouth.” 

Sean grins and approaches a rock that’s nearly half his size. He tries lifting it to no avail. For the next few moments, he tries again and again. You stand next to Arthur’s side, watching him. Arthur smiles at you and folds his arms smugly. 

Finally, Sean gives up. He groans in disappointment and pulls out a couple of dollars and hands them to Arthur. “A’right, fine. Ya win this round, Arthur, but I promise young Sean MacGuire always comes back!” 

Lenny just chuckles and walks away to take up guard duty. Sean looks at you. “I bet I could pick ya up like it was not’ing!” 

“Well, that ain’t no challenge,” Arthur says. Without warning, he suddenly sweeps you up into his arms, making you shriek a little and latch onto his neck. “She’s tiny. Can’t weigh more than a hundred pounds soaking wet.” 

“Put me down, Arthur,” you laugh, blushing worse than you ever have before. He chuckles and complies, his hand lingering on your hip. 

“You know what? I bet I’m strong enough to pick you up, Mr. Morgan,” you say. He crosses his arms again and raises his eyebrows. 

“Oh could ya? Darlin’, I’m more than twice your size. I could crush ya.” 

He’s not wrong, he’s significantly taller and wider than you are, but you square your shoulders and walk to behind him, figuring you can get a better angle that way. You wrap your arms around him. He’s much wider than you thought he’d be, but you don’t hesitate to grip him as hard as you can and then lift. Fuck, he’s heavy. He and Sean roar with laughter as you bury your head into his back, trying to lift his feet even a few centimeters off the ground. 

For the next few moments, you struggle to lift him, but to no avail. Finally you unwrap your exhausted arms from around him and step away, massaging the creases of your elbows. Arthur turns to you, still chuckling. He’s quietly impressed. You came very close to lifting him, even without his help. He sees your red face and how you’re rubbing your elbows.

“That was a good try, sweetheart,” he says, patting your shoulder. He can’t help but think you’re the most adorable thing with a feisty spirit. That was what first attracted him to you was your spark and quick wit. Plus he loved the fact that he dwarfed you. He was filled with the sudden urge to wrap you in his arms, to feel just how tiny you were against him, but he didn’t dare do it in front of Sean. 

“Ya gonna take her money too, ya ol’ grump?” Sean says, breaking the moment between you.

“No because she never bet me any money. She just was sure she could do it,” Arthur says. 

“Oh of course. Ya never take money from the girls.” 

“Only from you, ya dolt, now get out of here.” 

Sean walks away, shaking his head. Arthur turns back to you. You’re still massaging your elbows and wrists. 

“You okay?” he asks, a small smile still playing on his lips. 

“Of course, Mr. Morgan. Guess I just got cocky is all.” 

He chuckles and suddenly takes your hands in his, rubbing them gently. “I guess so. Ya almost had me though. Gotta say, I’m impressed.”

You smile and lift up on your toes to leave a kiss on his cheek and then you walk away, unaware of how you left his entire cheek feeling burned. He watches you walk away, wanting nothing more than to tell you how much he admires you and wants to be with you. But he made a decision too, just like you had. No more would Arthur Morgan go chasing women around. His heart simply couldn’t bear the pain.


	22. The breakup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> User asked: While I love all the smut, I crave for drama to happen between Arthur and reader. I loved the jealous Arthur post you've written and the bits of drama in your fanfic but how will he handle if the reader is one who is jealous and it leads into a heated argument, where the reader almost breaks up with him? Or vice versa.

You’ve been at this stupid ball in Saint Denis for a little over an hour. The mayor of the city was throwing it for the Italian big suit that kidnapped Jack. You were suspicious about the whole thing immediately. Why in the hell would the man who kidnapped Jack and then returned him invite Dutch and the others to a ball? Definitely strange, but it was above you when it came to information. Dutch and Hosea explained to you and Tilly that they wanted you both to come in order to help them blend in a bit more with the crowd. Easier to pick up on contacts and potential future schemes. 

You’ve always hated balls. Having to dress up, look perfect in order to impress people you’ll never like anyways. You’d take an old, dirty pair of jeans and work shirt anyday over all these damn layers. There couldn’t be a worse torture than this. 

You’re waiting in the courtyard while Dutch and Arthur meet with this Bronte man. Hosea and Bill are mingling in the crowd, Tilly’s getting involved with a group of young men who seem to find her interesting. Dutch told you to go mingle as well, but that isn’t your thing. You don’t “mingle”. 

You head over to the banquet tables where fruits, cakes and other delicacies are being offered. You hope Arthur will come down soon. You’ve been involved with him for quite some time now and things couldn’t be going better. He’s the perfect companion. You couldn’t design a better man. His only flaw is his insecurities in himself and it sometimes tends to make him a bit jealous. Not that you mind. You get jealous when passing women eye him hungrily. 

When you’re standing next to the table, you grab a glass of champagne and are about to ask the man behind the table for a piece of cake when you hear your name being called. You turn and see not Arthur, but a man you haven’t seen since you were fairly young. His name immediately springs into your mind. Benjamin Dowel. When you were fourteen, you lived in the same town as him and held a massive crush on him. He never knew this of course. Most of the teen girls in town had a thing for him, you were just another face in the crowd. But your relationship back then had been different. You were close friends through your teens until his father got a job in Saint Denis and his family moved down here. You wonder quietly how he wound his way into such an illustrious event as this. 

“Y/N!” he says again, stopping from you only a few feet away. You smile and then notice his suit. White jacket and shirt, white bow tie and black dress pants. Exactly like all the other waiters. 

“Benjamin!” you say, ignoring his position. “Oh my God, how many years has it been? You look great!” And he does look great. His ears aren’t nearly as large and his skin’s cleared up. It doesn’t help that he’s got a pleasant square shape to his shoulders, though that could be the jacket. He’s still handsome with his dark hair and eyes, plus his smile is still enough to make any woman swoon. It’s no surprise he’s even more attractive now than he was all those years ago. 

“Y/N!” he says, gesturing to you. “You look… wow, you look great!” 

You blush and clasp your hands. “Thanks. So… you’re a waiter here?” 

“Yeah.” He goes on to tell you that when he turned 18, his father demanded he get his own job, so he found a position working as a waiter at the saloon, but would work events like this. He’s been doing it for nearly ten years now as it is good work and pays well enough. 

For the next little while, you and Benjamin continue to talk and reconnect. You’re reminded why you had a crush on him for so long. He’s sweet, observant, funny and has an unwaverable sense of loyalty to his father. You’re constantly aware that Arthur’s around here somewhere and he’d be furious if he saw you flirting with this guy. However, he has no room to talk. You know that if Mary called on him again, he’d be off to see her faster than you could blink. 

You’ve always been jealous of Mary. She treated Arthur horribly and yet he let her keep a hold of him that you’ve never been able to understand. There’s no doubt in your mind that if things went the way Arthur wanted, he’d pick Mary over you. After all, you’d seen her. She’s beautiful, smart and not afraid to voice her opinions. It’s no secret that Arthur views you as just a second choice. He’d rather have you than be alone, but Mary is still his preferred option. That knowledge has always been a sore you’ve worked hard to hide. 

A reasonable amount of time has passed and Arthur hasn’t come to find you. He must be out trying to find the mayor. It’s given you and Benjamin a lot of time to chat. You ask him at one point if he needs to return to work, but he just shrugs and says you’re worth getting fired for. The two of you head off the edge of the courtyard near a nearly empty gazebo. He’s moved much closer to you than you’re almost comfortable with, but you don’t step away. 

“Y/N, can I tell you a secret?” he asks. You nod. “When we were kids, I, uh, I was really sweet on you.” He’s blushing worse than you’ve ever seen and rubbing the back of his head. 

You blush too. “Oh, Benjamin. Why didn’t you ever tell me?” 

“Because I knew there was no way you felt the same. And we were such good friends. I didn’t want to ruin that.” 

“Well, you should have,” you smile. “I was sweet on you too.” 

He smiles again, almost as though he couldn’t believe it. His hands come up and settle just above your elbows. He squeezes lightly and moves even closer. 

“You were always pretty,” he whispers, “but now you’re damn near radiant.” He leans down and places a soft kiss on your lips. It’s so sudden that you’ve no time to react, no chance to tell him about you and Arthur. Plus you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t always been curious what his lips feel like. 

You’re waiting for that spark though, now that he’s kissing you. Instead, you feel nothing. Not like when you first kissed Arthur. When that happened, there was definitely something there. But with Benjamin, there’s not even the sense of remorse or guilt. Just nothing. 

You pull away. “Benjamin, I… I can’t. You’re a great guy and my closest friend growing up, but-”

You’re cut off by the sound of breaking glass. The two of you turn and see Arthur stomping away, everyone else watching him, and a broken champagne glass only a few yards from you. Shit, there’s no question he witnessed what just happened. 

“I have to go,” you say, squirming out of Benjamin’s grasp. You chase after Arthur, calling his name, but he doesn’t respond. You see him in the darkness heading off the mayor’s property and towards the swampy pond, its banks dotted in manicured flowers.

“Arthur!” you call again as he stops near the water. He turns to you and his eyes are angry and betrayed. Your stomach drops, but you run up to him anyways. 

“Arthur, let me explain. I didn’t mean-” 

“You didn’t mean for me to see that shit, am I right?” he snarls. 

“No, that’s not what I was going to say. He kissed me, not the other way around.” 

“Who is that feller anyways?” 

You sigh and explain how you know Benjamin. Arthur’s eyes darken further. 

“So he’s your ‘what if’ guy, am I correct?” he demands. 

“I… I guess so. Arthur please, what he did was the last thing I wanted to happen. You know I’d never cheat on you.” 

“Do I?” 

You’re taken back by his response and a little offended. “Yes, Arthur you do. You know I’d never betray your trust and I know, or at least I hope, I have the same courtesy from you.” 

“And what the hell does that mean?” 

“You know exactly what it means, Arthur!” you say, your temper flaring. “Don’t lie to me and say that if that Mary didn’t say ‘Oh Arthur, I need you’ that you wouldn’t go galloping off to her. We both know that’s exactly what you’d do. I ain’t stupid, Arthur.” 

He glowers down at you, his jaw tight. “That ain’t fair, Y/N! You know that ain’t the way it is-” 

“Yes it is, Arthur! I know for a fact that I’m better than you being alone, but if things were different, you’d pick her. A thousand times over and over again! So don’t you dare tell me that it isn’t fair!” 

“You always been jealous of Mary,” he hisses. “You always suspected the worst of me whenever her name is even mentioned.” 

“And have you proven me wrong, Arthur? In Horseshoe Overlook, you went tromping off to her. It didn’t matter we’ve been together for over a year, you still went to her. And then what did you do? You lied to me, said you were just going off to tell her to stop pestering you. But I know for a fact you went in hopes she’d take you back!” 

“And how the hell would you know that?” 

“Because I followed you, Arthur! Forgive me for being suspicious, but I had to know for sure. I know your past with her and so I doubted you were going to tell her goodbye. And guess what? I was right! You went chasing after her brother hoping that she’d see how good of a man you are and want you back again.” 

“You seriously followed me? Well so much for us having a trusting relationship!” he roars.

“Yeah, I know it was a shit move on my part, but like I said, I’ve always known you’d choose her over me. I know if she ended up saying she actually wanted you back, you’d have come back to me and said things were over. I know I’m not a prize, Arthur!” 

You’re crying at this point and you’re hurt and upset. Not once has Arthur said you were wrong, that you were what he wanted. You can tell by the look in his eyes he’s not planning on contradicting you either. 

“It’s not fair,” you go on, more quietly this time, “for you to still be pining for Mary and for me to not have anyone else in case this doesn’t work. You have no idea how much it hurts to know you still love her and to know you’d just toss me aside so easily the moment she says your name.” 

You wipe your cheeks, waiting for him to say something. His face is still dark, his eyes glaring at you. “Yeah, but I don’t go around kissin’ people from my past. Especially in front of you. What you just did hurts too, Y/N.” 

His words are enough to confirm your fears. He loves Mary more than he’ll ever love you. Nothing you can do or say can change that. 

“You know what, Arthur?” you finally say. “We’re done. I’m not going to compete for your affections. Not with some silly woman like Mary who isn’t even around. It’s not fair to me for you to be jealous and for me to just be okay with you wanting Mary. I can’t do it anymore.” 

His eyes widen. “Y/N, no. Ya don’t need to do this.” 

“Yes I do, Arthur. I’m never going to have you the way I want, so I’m not going to try anymore. It’s over. I’ll move my things out of your room back at Shady Belle.” 

Before he has the chance to say anything further, you run off towards the street. You should be going back to Dutch and the others, it’d be the easiest way for you to get back to camp, but Arthur will surely be there too. You can’t bear to be around him anymore, so you wander the streets for a moment until you see the other guests’ horses lined up, waiting for their masters. The boy watching over them is napping, so you pick the horse farthest from him and canter off. You don’t care that the boy is calling and hollering for you to come back. You have to get away. 

When you’re back in camp, you head immediately up to your shared room. Or what was your shared room. There, you strip out of this stupid dress and tear off the jewelry. You leave them on the chair near the table. They were gifts from Arthur; you don’t want them anymore. You change quickly back into your everyday clothes and quickly pack up your belongings. 

You head outside and towards the two wagons where the other girls sleep. When you first joined the gang, there wasn’t really any room for you, so you slept under the wagons. It was actually kind of nice because it was covered from the elements and you didn’t have another person on either side of you. You stuff your belongings under the wagon again and roll out your bedroll. Mary-Beth asks what you’re doing, but you wave her off, not really in the mood to explain what just happened. 

When your things are set out the way you like, you’re not really tired enough to go to bed, plus you’re still hurt and angry. You also know Arthur’s likely to come find you and want to talk, but that’s the last thing you want. You head off to the boathouse behind the manor and sit on a rickety chair you’ve seen Strauss occupying multiple times. 

It’s late in the night when you hear the sounds of the coach rolling back in and Dutch’s loud voice carries over to you, though you can’t really make out what he’s saying. Your stomach tightens almost painfully as you worry about if anyone will tell Arthur where you’ve gone. An hour passes though and he doesn’t. Finally, you feel safe enough to go and try to get some sleep under your wagon. 

A few very awkward days pass and Arthur still has not tried to talk to you. Now that your anger is finally gone, you feel somewhat hurt that he hasn’t. Even though it was you who broke things off, you didn’t want to. You had to in order to protect yourself, but you still love him. He must be satisfied with things being the way they are. Hell, he’s probably daydreaming about Mary, or worse, he’s actively looking for her. A letter from her came to him the day after you broke up and Arthur’s been running off to the city a lot. 

The other girls try to get you to talk about what’s going on, but you still don’t really want to. Dutch has even approached you and tried to smooth things over, but you wonder if Arthur asked him to. You never saw it, but Hosea spoke to Arthur and gave him a few honest opinions, trying to help him straighten things out as far as how he felt about things. 

Part of you wonders if maybe it’s time to leave the gang. Arthur is such a vital part of it, he’s involved with pretty much everything. You won’t be able to do any jobs anymore without him being involved in some way or another. You come to the decision that you’ll just go off on a hunting trip for a few days. You’ve done it plenty of times before, so Dutch won’t think anything of it. And maybe, if you end up preferring the isolation, you’ll just end up not coming back. 

You pack up your bedroll but leave most of your other possessions behind. Most of them are gifts from Arthur anyways. A picture of some wolves he got from a photographer, another photograph of you and Arthur taken from a few weeks back. You feel a pang when you look at it. He looks so happy. You lay it back down and then crawl out from under the wagon, hop up onto your horse and leave. No one stops you, they all know at this point you and Arthur aren’t together anymore. You secretly despise their mixed looks of disappointment and pity. The likelihood that you’ll ever see any of them again is small. 

Once you’re away from Shady Belle, you gallop north towards New Hanover. You have not enjoyed Lemoyne much. Too hot and humid. You prefer the green and blue hues of the Heartlands. The change of scenery is a welcome relief. The vast open landscape feels incredible. You realize now that you’ve been cooped up in that swamp for too long. You’ve needed this. 

Game is plentiful and you do some hunting, catching a few deer and rabbits. You only take what you can carry on your horse in case you end up not going back. Right now, you don’t want to at all. It feels good to be out here on your own, enjoying the warmth and the light. No one’s around to bicker or perform mindless chatter. In fact, no one’s around at all. It’s all wonderful.

When night comes, you pitch your tent in case it rains. You stock your fire and cook some of the meat. Instead of Pearson’s usual stew, you treat yourself to a can of beans, an apple and some fresh cooked venison. Stars twinkle above you, reminding you of your newly acquired freedom. 

While it’s been nice to be out here on your own and take a few steps back from life with the gang, you find yourself missing company. Particularly Arthur’s. You spent many nights with him out in the wilderness and they ended up being some of the best times. It wasn’t just that you could be as loud as you wanted while fooling around with him, but all the walls between you came tumbling down. You could be yourselves. You find yourself crying again at the thought that it would never happen again. 

Somehow, you end up falling asleep. In the morning, you lie inside your tent, feeling slightly miserable. You don’t know what’s going to happen. You don’t really want to abandon the gang and Arthur, but you don’t know if you can manage to live with them and him like this. You don’t want to end up like John and Abigail, barking angrily at each other at every turn. At least you and Arthur didn’t have a kid together. 

The smell of roasting coffee beans wafts into your tent. Did you make some last night and forget about it? No, you couldn’t have. You never have coffee except early in the day since it keeps you up too long. The thought that some stranger might be in your camp going through your stuff sends a jolt down to your stomach and makes you get up quickly. When you get outside, you find not a stranger, but Arthur. 

He’s kneeling down next to the fire, cooking some fresh meat on your grill. From the percolator you can hear water bubbling a little and steam coming from the spout. That explains the coffee smell. Arthur looks up when you come out, his face blank. Your stomach clenches tighter. He’s probably come to finish the fight. 

“Arthur, I-” you begin, feeling defensive. 

“You ain’t gotta be worried, sweetheart,” he says, his eyes hidden beneath his hat. He pours some coffee into a tin cup and hands it to you. “Why don’t you come sit down?” 

You hesitate and then accept his cup, sitting down on the opposite side of the fire. Having no idea what to say, you take a sip of your coffee. An awkward silence passes between you for a few moments before Arthur finally says something. 

“Y/N, I um, I didn’t come here to beg you to take me back. I ain’t gonna put that kinda pressure on ya. But I did want to try and apologize, but you never gave me the chance at that ridiculous party.” 

“I’ve been in camp with you three days, Arthur. You could have come talk any time.” 

“I know, but I wanted to talk with you alone, but you were always with someone. It was like… I don’t know, felt like ya didn’t want me to.” 

“I didn’t,” you admit. “We said our things at the party, Arthur. There isn’t more to say.” 

He looks down at the fire. “Maybe for you. But please, Y/N, give me the chance to talk?”

You recognize that he’s asking and not demanding, so you nod. He sighs and rubs his eyes for a moment. 

“What you said about me and Mary. Well, you were right. If she said even the tiniest word, I woulda gone to her. But these past few days without you have been tougher than all the years I spent without Mary. When she broke things off, my heart was broken. But when you broke things off. My heart wasn’t broken, it was just gone. I’ve taken ya for granted, Y/N. And you were right. It ain’t fair of me to accuse you of tryin’ to start things with other men when I’ve kept Mary in the wings for so long.”

Arthur stands up and approaches your side of the fire and sits down. He leaves several inches between you out of respect. “Y/N, I said I wasn’t gonna beg ya to take me back, and I’m not. However, if you wanted to reconsider trying again, I just want ya to know I’ll always be waitin’ for you. I’m willing to leave Mary in my past where she belongs. I guess I’m just hoping you’ll be in my future.” 

You’re trying not to cry again. You know when Arthur’s lying and his voice and just his energy says he’s being as authentic as ever. Your logic is telling you to say no, to leave things off. But that’s always been your problem. You’ve always listened to your brain more than your heart, which was why you were automatically suspicious when his first letter for Mary came. Maybe if you listened more to your heart, things would be different now. 

Arthur sighs again, looking away. “Anyways, I just wanted to set the record straight between us. I understand and I’ll respect your decision.” 

Arthur gets up and starts walking towards his horse, forgetting the meat he left on the grill to cook. If you let him leave now, the door to your future with him will close forever. You can’t let that happen and so you launch to your feet. 

“Arthur!” you wail, running up to him. He turns to be almost knocked off his feet by you throwing your weight at him. Before you can control yourself, you’re sobbing into his chest. He says nothing, but he wraps his arms around you, holding you tight and sets his chin on your head. He’s warm and familiar. You’ve buried yourself into him like this many times. His scent envelopes you, only adding to the range of emotions rushing through you. 

After a few moments, he loosens his hold and pulls you away slightly, giving you the grin that shows his wonky tooth. You love when he smiles like that. He dries your cheeks with his fingers before pulling a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Hey, you’re okay,” he says softly. You sniff and nod, feeling like you must look like a child. His hands find yours, rubbing them softly. “So… I hope it’s not too soon to ask, but-” 

You shake your head and cut him off. “It’s not, Arthur. And yes, I’m willing to try again.” He smiles again and all you want him to do is hold you again. As if reading your mind, he pulls you back into his arms, letting you rest your head into the crook of his neck. His right hand settles on your lower back and his left wraps around your shoulders. 

“You’re too good for me, darlin’, but I’m grateful you’re giving me a second chance. I love you.”


	23. Don't squeeze so tight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> User asked: “Don’t squeeze so tight!” Arthur being a huge tease. Writer's choice whether to add smut or not.

Warnings: light smut

You’re trying to hide the fact that you’ve been drooling for the better half of the afternoon. Arthur’s been in a weird mood and is clearly feeling frisky. You have been too, but you’re trying to play hard to get just to tease him. 

Although you’ve been in a relationship with the outlaw for over a year, you don’t make love as often as either of you would like. One of the many downsides to living in such a big gang. There isn’t a lot of availability to fool around in camp without someone hearing and then teasing one of you. However, some nights there’s just too much sexual tension between you, and tonight seems to be one of them. 

You haven’t slept with Arthur in over a week despite sharing a bed with him. Dutch has had him running around so much and you’ve been so busy that you both have gone to bed exhausted every night. Today’s been the first day in some time you’re both offered a break. 

Arthur had approached you some time ago and suggested enjoying a roll in the hay, but you wanted to make him work for it. He always performed best if you didn’t automatically give in. Now however, he seems to be playing your own game against you. 

He’s put on your favorite shirt and unbuttoned the top couple of buttons, teasing his chest to you. He knows it’s a weak spot for you. He’s also put on his jeans, which he doesn’t usually wear as they’re not the best for riding because of their tightness. He knows they hug him in just the right places to make you go wild though. 

He’s been strutting around camp the last couple of hours and practically rubbing it in your face that he’s ignoring you. It’s working of course. It doesn’t help that he keeps doing things like putting his back on one of the wagons, sticking his chest out and then scratching his neck, his fingers trailing down his body. He also keeps bending down with his butt in your direction, knowing you’ll look. Every time you’ve approached him though, he’s come up with some lame excuse or picked up a conversation with someone, preventing you from attacking him. 

Finally night comes and you head off to your shared tent in order to get ready for bed. You close the tent flaps and then unbutton your shirt and untuck it from your skirt. The tent flaps stir and you know Arthur’s behind you. Predictably, he wraps his arms around you, pressing your back into his chest as he kisses your neck. He whispers in your ear what he wants to do and you nod, loving that he always asks first. 

His hands grab the straps of your chemise and pull down, exposing your upper half to the cool air. His hands come up and begin massaging your naked breasts. You sigh in pleasure, tilting your head back to give his lips better access to your neck. His fingers trace your skin and find your nipples. He squeezes harder than he’s ever done before. 

“Don’t squeeze so tight!” you say, hissing slightly. He chuckles and kisses your neck again, his fingers working your nubs more delicately this time. “Okay, but I ain’t gonna go easy in other places.” 

I hope this is satisfactory! I honestly just didn’t have it in me to write a full on smut scene, so I hope some “foreplay” will do. Send in more requests! I love getting them!


	24. The note - Arthur's crush gets kidnapped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been awhile, hasn't it? Could you please write furious Arthur headcanons? His s/o had been kidnapped by another gang ( your choice) and write him a ransom but he doesn't give them anything, except a killing spree. He's bloodthirsty.

Warnings: swearing, torture, mentions of attempted rape, blood

Breathe

It’s early morning, the sun’s just risen and you’re kneeling next to the fire. You and Arthur found this place to camp last night while heading back to Shady Belle. It’s not too far from Clemens Point, the campsite the gang deserted a few weeks back thanks to the Pinkertons finding it. Arthur approached you a few days ago, stating he needed to get away from the swamps and that godforsaken city Saint Denis, so you went with him. 

You’re fairly certain Arthur’s sweet on you. Nothing conclusive, of course. It’s just a look here and there, a touch. The way he talks to you. The fact that you’re the only person he invites to come on these hunting trips. You know he has no qualms about going alone. He used to go out by himself for days on end, coming back with loads of pelts and herbs. That was when you first joined though. The past couple of months, he’s liked you to come along. 

You’re sweet on Arthur too. He’s a complicated man, capable of great measures of violence and gentleness. You’ve seen him be kind one second and become scary as hell the next. However, it was his gentleness and his devotion to the gang that first captured your attention. He’d move mountains for most of the gang members, particularly Dutch, Hosea and the other girls. You hope he’d do the same for you, and something tells you he would. Once you got to know him a little better, it didn’t take long for you to develop feelings for him. It was then that you also noticed how handsome he was and there were many nights you went to sleep pretending to be nestled in his arms. 

Arthur’s out now, probably hunting or gathering herbs. You like to sleep in later than he does, so you’re not worried. You straighten your shirt and run your fingers through your hair before pouring yourself a cup of coffee. Once you’re a little more awake, you’ll get your bow and go find him. 

The energy in the air shifts suddenly. Or perhaps it’s just the wind, but something feels wrong. You remember once in Big Valley being stalked by a cougar. This feeling is the same, but there are no large predators down this far south. Not that you know of, anyways. You look around the wide clearing and into the trees. There seems to be nothing. So why does it feel so strange?

Without warning, a lasso floats over your head and around your middle, binding your arms to your sides. The rope jerks, slamming you down onto the ground and you begin to panic. Three men, whooping and hollering, come running up. They’re wearing old soldiers’ uniforms. 

Breathe

“You sure she’s the one, Curtis? Part of that gang that took Shady Belle?” the one holding the rope that binds you says. 

A slightly fat man with a big white beard approaches you, grabbing your face hard and he peers at you. “She’s definitely with that gang. I seen her before. That big feller you with, he the gang leader?” he directs the question at you. 

Lemoyne Raiders. No question about it. You knew you hadn’t seen the last of them after Dutch robbed them of their hideout. 

“I ain’t runnin’ with no other feller,” you lie. “Just myself and my horse.” 

“Then how you explain the two bedrolls? You also got enough supplies to take care of two people.” 

You swallow. “I… I like to carry a lot of supplies. Sell them sometimes. You in the market?” 

The man grabs your collar and swiftly punches you, causing starts to blink in your vision. 

“Now tell the truth, girl!” the man hollers. 

You glare up at him and spit blood in his face. “I ain’t tellin’ you a damn thing.”

“Fine, but you ain’t gonna like the alternative.” The man flips you onto your back, binding your hands and feet together. The man named Curtis hollers again back at the other two. “Come on, boys. We’ll take her to our new place. Make her hungry.” 

“But what use is she gonna be to us?” the third man says. He has a rather stupid look to him and his eyes are too far apart. 

“Easy. That feller she’s runnin’ with. I doubt he’s gone far,” Curtis points out. “We’ll leave him a little note. Adam, you know how to write, you’ll make it up. Put down that we want Shady Belle back and $1000 with it. Either that, or we’ll send them a gift made out of this pretty lady’s skin.” 

The men chuckle darkly and you’re beginning to panic. You’re just about to scream for Arthur when Curtis kneels down, takes his pistol out, and slams the butt of it into your head, forcing you into a world of darkness. 

***************************************

Arthur makes his way back to the little make-shift camp. It’s nearly noon; he’s surprised you haven’t caught up with him yet. You’ve never slept in this late. Maybe you’re not feeling well. His horse’s saddlebags are bursting with herbs, Grimshaw will be happy at least. 

He hums softly to himself, excited that your face will be the first one he sees today. You have the brightest and warmest smile he’s ever seen. He’d pay an unimaginable amount to wake up to seeing that smile of yours everyday. He wants nothing more than to ask you out to dinner or some other date, but he’s terrified. No way could someone like you be interested in a dirty, violent outlaw like himself. 

He sees the pillar of smoke that marks your camp and his humming changes to whistling. Maybe today he’ll finally find the courage to ask you out. Unlikely. All you have to do is smile and his legs turn to jelly. Still, he loves your company. The way you point out the beauty of the world where all he once saw was the ugliness of it. Your face litters many of the pages in his journal. If only you knew how many. Probably a good thing you didn’t, he thought, otherwise you’d go running for the hills. 

He walks his horse slowly up the last small rise towards camp. When he sees it, he’s confused. You’re not there, but your horse is still tied to the small tree you hitched her to the previous night. Maybe you’ve gone to pick herbs not too far away or you’re fishing at the lake, which isn’t far either. However, when he gets closer and he sees the blood, he knows you’re in trouble. He hops off his horse and inspects the camp, looking for any clue to what happened. He finds the note. “Give us Shady Belle and $1000 or the girl dies. Deliver alone. LR.” 

His breathing becomes suddenly rapid and his hands begin to shake. He crumples the letter in his hand, the edges of his vision turning red. How dare those bastards touch a single hair on your head? He was angry when he learned young Jack had been kidnapped. It’s nothing compared to the seething hatred he feels now. He quickly throws down camp, grabs your horse and then gallops back to Shady Belle. Dutch will surely help him. 

**************************************

Breathe. 

You’re being dragged by the rope binding your feet. Your head aches and you crack your eyes open. An old, boarded-up house looms above you and you’re flanked by over half a dozen men, all in Confederate uniforms. The man dragging you stops and you look to your left and see the burned skeleton of a barn. 

“What the hell she doin’ here, Curtis?” a slightly fat, balding man demands. Based on his uniform, you’d guess he’s the boss of this group. 

“She’s with that gang who took Shady Belle. We left a note for her companion to give it back and an extra $1000, otherwise we’d send her back in a condition they ain’t gonna like.” 

“You damn fool, Curtis!” the man growls. “And when the entire gang comes up to get her, then what?” 

“We wrote her friend a note to come alone when deliverin’ the money. He ain’t gonna be a problem, Richard.” 

“He better not be. Still, I would enjoy seein’ at least one of those traitors who robbed us suffer. That was our goddamn home.” Richard looks to the house and then back to you. “Put her in the basement.” 

Breathe.

The man holding your feet begins dragging you again towards the house. You grunt loudly as he hauls you up the front steps and they scratch against your back. You start struggling, trying to grab onto anything that might give you an edge. Curtis, who’s walking behind you, grabs your hands and picks you up so now you’re being carried between the two men. 

They drop you in a room with a fireplace, a fire burning inside it. Richard enters the room, shooing most the other men out except for Curtis and the man still holding her feet. He orders them to strip you. You start fighting, but Richard and the other man pin you down as Curtis rips off your clothes, leaving you in your undergarments. 

“You wanna go further?” he asks Richard, a hungry look in his eyes that leaves you feeling cold. 

“Not yet. If they don’t show up with the money in a day or two, we’ll have some fun with her.”

Curtis looks disappointed, but he and the other man pick you up again and Richard opens up a door in the floor. They carry you down into a cellar. There are three pillars, chains attached to them. This house clearly used to keep slaves down here before the Civil War ended. 

The men drop you onto the stone ground and then Richard pulls out two pairs of handcuffs. He binds your hands together and then your feet. Then he forces you to your feet and stretches your arms up, attaching the chain holding your hands together to an old hook hanging from the rafters of the ceiling. It leaves you barely standing on your toes. 

“Get out of here, you two,” Richard says to the other men. Again, they look disappointed but they comply. Richard turns back to you. “Now, you’re gonna tell me about this little gang of yours.” 

“I ain’t tellin’ you nothin’,” you growl. 

He chuckles and takes out a knife. “Maybe not yet, but you will.” 

Breathe. 

*********************************************

Arthur stomps into camp, still in a fury. He goes to Dutch and explains your predicament. 

“We ain’t givin’ those animals money, Arthur,” Dutch says. 

“No of course we ain’t. But we need to find her. Gather the men, let’s go hunt her down before those bastards have a chance to hurt her.” 

Dutch stands up, glaring at Arthur. He’s never tried to boss Dutch around and he won’t accept it. “No, Arthur. I need them to do work and I know you’re sweet on Y/N, Arthur, but she ain’t exactly Jack.”

Arthur’s vision has remained red the entire time since he found your ransom note but it intensifies when he hears Dutch’s words. “What, because she ain’t a kid who represents the potentials of the future, she ain’t worth savin’?!” 

“Arthur, that ain’t what I’m saying,” Dutch says quickly. Although he knows Arthur’s loyalty would never waver, he knows exactly what Arthur’s capable of. “We’ll get her before she can talk, but I just need a little more time.” 

“She ain’t gonna talk, Dutch. She’s as loyal to you as any of us.” 

“I don’t know that, Arthur. She’s only been with us for a few months and who knows what they’ll do to her. You’d be surprised how quickly people break when subjected to torture.” 

Arthur clenches his fist and Dutch takes a step back. “I’m goin’ after her, Dutch, right now whether you like it or not. I’m gonna kill all them bastards. But if she’s dead, Dutch, I’m gonna tear everything-”

“Alright, Arthur,” Dutch says quickly, knowing how easily Arthur could hurt him if he really wanted to. “Take two men, go find her.” 

Arthur stomps out of the house, still furious that no one else cares about you as much as he does. He grabs Charles and John and rides back to where your camp was in order to track you down. 

*******************************************

Breathe. 

The inside of your upper left arm burns something terrible. At least the bleeding has stopped. Richard tried getting information out of you, kicking and slapping you when you refused. After two hours of attempted interrogation, he lost his temper and carved the word “traitor” into your arm. The pain was indescribable. He left you alone to hang from your wrists after that, clearly needing a break. 

It’s been at least half a day since you saw anyone. You’re thirsty and your wrists hurt like crazy from holding a good portion of your weight, the manacles digging into your skin. 

The cellar door at the top of the stairs opens again and Richard walks down. He’s alone but he’s already pulled out his knife. 

“You gonna talk, traitor?” he growls. 

“Fuck off, you piece of shit,” you spit back. 

He narrows his eyes and rubs his thumb across the blade. “You know, a few years ago, another gang came through here. Guess they wander a lot, don’t stick in one place for more than a few weeks. Called themselves the Skinners. I saw the things they did to the folk they caught. Even learned a thing or two. Trust me, girl, you wouldn’t like any of the ideas I got for you.”

He glares at you. Fear rips through your gut but you won’t give in so easily. Someone will come for you, you’re sure of it, and you’re more scared of what Dutch will do if you talk and he finds out. 

“Do your worst,” you say, a tear sliding down your cheek. 

Richard curls his lip and then slams his knife down into your thigh, making you scream. “Talk, girl,” he demands again. You quiet down, more tears falling. “Talk!” he hollers, twisting the knife which only makes you scream more. He twists, pulls and pushes the knife, trying to work anything out of you. Then, he yanks the knife out, blood spilling out of your thigh. 

“You’re gonna say somethin’! I don’t care how much you’ve whored yourself to those men, you’re gonna break.” 

You can do nothing but cry as your thigh bleeds freely. Richard reaches up and drags the tip of the knife from your neck to your collarbone, finally cutting into your chest. He draws a shallow line, making you scream again. 

Finally, Richard seems to have enough after cutting you in multiple places across your arms and legs. He huffs insults at you and then marches up the stairs. 

Breathe.

*********************************************

At the campsite, Charles picks up a trail of three horses, most likely your captors’. It’s an old trail but he manages to pick it up just fine. Arthur’s still furious and desperate to find you. 

John tries to encourage him. “We got Jack back, Arthur. We won’t have any problems finding her.” 

He couldn’t be more wrong, though. The men who captured you almost seemed to not know where they were going. The trail winds in several circles and sometimes even turns back to the way they’d come, almost like they were afraid of leaving a trail. 

The hunt lasts for hours and the sun begins to set. Charles tells Arthur to rest, but he refuses, stating you certainly don’t have that luxury. He won’t either, not until you’re safe. Charles and John decide not to argue. They know how Arthur feels about you, and how afraid he is of losing you. They agree to go on.

The trail heads further east towards the swamps and then, after hours of following, it turns west again, back towards Scarlett Meadows. Arthur’s even more furious. What the hell were those animals trying to do when they captured you? Charles asks for the note they’d left him, wondering if it could give any clues to where you are. Arthur says there’s nothing but hands him the note anyways. 

“LR,” Charles says. 

“Lemoyne Raiders,” John explains. “We drove them out of Shady Belle.”

Charles nods and his face is deep in thought. “Where would a gang that large go after losing their main hideout?” 

Arthur pulls out a map and inspects it. There’s few buildings that aren’t in a town or a city that are large enough to house a gang. Then he sees a place on the map in the direction the trail is leading. He recognizes it from when Uncle found a lead on a stage that was owned by Cornwall. They’d hid in the barn of the house and it got burned down. Shortly afterwards, he met the former owner, an ex slave catcher. He remembers the old cellar with chains on the pillars, ledgers of slaves and a slave’s old journal describing getting caught. 

“There, Compston’s Stead. My money’s on there.” 

John looks at the map and nods. “Seems big enough. Right in the middle of their territory.” 

“Let’s go,” Charles says, but Arthur’s already riding off. The group gallops through the night, the horses snort and sweat from being pushed so hard. They enter the woods right outside Comspton’s Stead and finally pull to a stop. It’s nearly dawn, the eastern horizon turning light. Arthur dismounts and pulls out his shotgun. 

“We need to come up with a plan,” John says. “What are we doin’, Arthur?” 

“Kill ‘em all,” Arthur says and then starts walking towards the house. Charles and John call for him, stating the obvious flaws in this idea, but Arthur ignores them. All he knows is they’ve undoubtedly tortured you and done God knows what else and he’s going to rip them all to shreds. 

He stops at the edge of the trees and, sure enough, there’s tents and wagons around the house and burnt barn. Hardly anyone’s awake, but two men are sitting around a campfire, sipping coffee. They’re clearly supposed to be on guard as they hold rifles, but they’re taking a break. Arthur aims his shotgun and fires, the slugs slamming into the chest of one of the men. The other hops up, only to be knocked back by another shot fired by Arthur. 

The other men start getting out of their tents, but they’re disoriented from being asleep. Some are still pulling their pants or hats on, wielding pistols or rifles. 

“Raiders!” Arthur screams, reloading his shotgun. “You’re dead, you sons of bitches! Where is she?” 

**********************************

You’re dozing, somehow able to get a bit of rest despite the immense pain flowing constantly throughout your body. There isn’t a part of you that doesn’t hurt, but you’re so tired you’re managing to fade out of consciousness to a point and sleep a little. That is until you hear the cellar door open. You look up and out the small window near the ceiling. The sky’s turning light. Richard walks down the stairs, his eyes dark and hungry. He closes the cellar door behind him.

Breathe. 

“You gonna talk, whore?” he growls. 

“Do your worst,” you say again, your voice no more than a soft grunt. You’re so thirsty and weak it’s all you can manage. 

“Oh I plan too. You are a pretty thing. Shame you’re makin’ me carve you up like this.” He stands in front of you and raises his hand, dragging a finger from your shoulder and all the way down your body. The way he touches you is the absolute worst torture and you suddenly realize what he’s thinking of doing. 

He grabs the top of your bloomers and begins to pull down. “Obviously knives ain’t workin’ on you. Maybe I can… squeeze your words out of you another way,” he whispers in your ear. You clench your legs together as hard as you can, but in your position you don’t have much power over what happens to you. 

Richard reaches a hand up to lift your chemise when a sudden explosion echoes outside. It’s coming from the woods. Richard steps away quickly and looks out the window. 

Another explosion and men begin shouting. You hear a man hollering a slew of insults. There’s anger in his voice, but it’s different than the anger in Richard’s voice. A kind of desperation lingers behind it. 

“Son of a bitch,” Richard growls. He pulls out his pistol and stands close to you. “Don’t worry, whore. He ain’t gettin’ to you.” 

Breathe. 

You want to cry out. You recognize those explosions well enough to know they’re coming from a shotgun. Someone has come for you. You have to believe it. 

“Help!” you try calling out, but your voice is so weak it’s hardly more than a whisper. 

“Shut up,” Richard grunts. You call out again and he slams the butt of his pistol in your face, cutting your cheek. 

The air outside echoes with more shots, more screaming. You don’t know how long it continues, but then it suddenly stops. Richard shuffles nervously, his thumb brushing against the hammer of his pistol. He stares up at the closed cellar door. You can see the sweat dripping down his face. 

The cellar door swings open, light streaming in and blinding you. Richard hesitates and then points his pistol at your head. 

“Come any closer, she dies,” he says. 

The person at the top of the stairs darts down them. You gasp when you see Arthur and he’s wielding a rusty old sword. He’s too fast for Richard and he swings the sword down and into Richard’s shoulder, burying it deep. Richard drops the pistol and falls to the ground, Arthur on top of him. 

Arthur pulls out his knife and slashes Richard’s throat, and he gurgles as the blood flows from his open neck. Arthur watches him for a second, his shirt speckled in Richard’s blood. Then he turns and looks at you, a fire raging in his eyes. 

Breathe.

“Ar-Arthur,” you groan. He gets up and grabs your wrists, unhooking them from the rafters. You sigh when your weight finally goes to your feet but you’re so weak you fall against Arthur. He grabs you and holds you tight, kneeling down so you don’t have to stand. He cradles your head against his chest, his other arm tight around your back. 

“I got ya, girl. You’re safe now,” he whispers, his voice gentle compared to the violence that he’d just committed. 

You take in a deep breath, his scent of pine and leather flooding your nostrils and then you begin to cry. You sob into his shirt and he just holds you, rubbing circles into your back. He releases you only for a moment to take out a lockpick and take the cuffs off your wrists. When your hands are free, you latch onto him as hard as you can. 

“You’re safe, darlin’. Ain’t nothin’ gonna hurt ya now.” 

He sighs, his arms folding tightly around you. You bury your head into the crook of his neck, wanting to shut out the world. You swear his lips brush your forehead. 

“Come on, sweetheart. We need to get you out of here.” 

He starts pulling away, but you latch onto him. You feel cold and you’re terrified from everything that’s happened. He’s warm and he represents safety, protection. 

“Easy, girl. I ain’t goin’ nowhere. Just need to get these off your feet.” 

He lays you down on your back as gently as he can and then unlocks the cuffs around your feet. He’s back near your head and he picks you up, cradling your head to his neck again as he carries you up the stairs. You’re blinded from having been down in that cellar for you don’t even know how long. He walks slowly as to not cause you more pain and your eyes adjust to the light. 

Curtis and the man who dragged you lie dead in the living room, their bodies resting in pools of blood. Outside, you’re blinded again but you have an easier time adjusting to the light. There’s more corpses. Charles and John are looting the bodies and camp for anything they can use. They straighten up when they see Arthur carrying you. 

“Is she…” Charles begins. 

“She’s alive,” Arthur says with a shaky voice. “She’s in bad shape though. We need to get her home.” 

Arthur calls his horse and, with John’s and Charles’s help, lifts you onto the horse, which is extremely painful on your leg. You grunt and gasp in pain and Arthur says words of encouragement. He climbs up behind you and wraps a protective arm around you, grabbing the reins in his other hand. He says nothing to the other two and pushes his horse into an easy canter towards camp. The pain is too much as it rips through your body in fresh waves and sends you into a relieving world of darkness. 

***********************

Arthur arrives back at camp, followed by Charles and John. You passed out within only a few moments of riding, to which he’s grateful for. It meant you would have to endure less pain. Once he stops his horse, John holds you up as he gets off his horse. John makes to slide you off, but Arthur pushes him away and pulls you into his arms. 

Grimshaw’s making a huge fuss, ordering people around to get medical supplies. Dutch walks over to him and is about to say something when Arthur snaps at him. “I don’t wanna hear about it right now, Dutch. She ain’t outta the woods yet.” 

Grimshaw tries to tell him to drop you off on your own bedroll, which is positioned by Karen’s and Mary-Beth’s on the ground, but Arthur says it would be best if you were on an elevated bed, somewhere secluded and warm. He hauls you up to his room and puts you onto his bed. Grimshaw abruptly shoves him out of the warm so she and the girls can change your clothes and begin working on you. 

Most of your cuts and wounds are okay and don’t require stitches, including the carved word on your arm. Your leg is a different situation. The wound is deep and jagged and it’s still bleeding, though not profusely. Grimshaw says the best option would be to cauterize it instead of risk it getting infected. Karen brings her a candle and some gunpowder. 

Arthur’s standing outside his door, pacing near it. He’s terrified to hear about your condition but prays he got to you in time. He’s still wearing his bloody clothes, but as he’s not allowed into his room to change, he doesn’t care. Dutch and Hosea are with him, telling him encouragements. They’re helping until he hears you scream. 

Dutch grabs Arthur as he tries barging through the door to get to you. Arthur’s fighting hard though, so Dutch calls Bill and Charles. It takes all three men to prevent Arthur from going into his room to see you. He yells at them to let him go and after a few moments, Grimshaw comes out, looking furious. 

“Mr. Morgan, she won’t ever be able to get some rest with you screeching this!”

“What the hell are you doin’ to her?” he demands. 

“Fixin’ her leg. Think she’ll be fine and she’s asleep again.” 

“Let me see her.” 

“No,” Grimshaw says. “We’re almost done. Now how about you make yourself useful and get some fresh clothes for her. Bring up some food and water for when she wakes up.” 

Arthur growls but he’s relieved to have something to do. The others let him go and he does what Grimshaw says. She snatches the clothes out of his hand and then slams the door in his face. 

“Come on, son,” Hosea says, patting Arthur on the back. “Let’s get you calmed down. That’s the best thing you can do for her right now. She couldn’t be in better hands.” 

Arthur nods and lets Hosea and Dutch lead him into the sitting room where Dutch keeps the donation box. They get him some whiskey and some food, encouraging him to eat. 

***********************************

You don’t know how long it’s been since Arthur saved you. The events leading up to it were terrifying and awful, but the feeling of his arms around you was one of the best things you’ve ever felt. You remember how his warmth seeped into you. 

Breathe.

You notice you’re mostly on your stomach and right side in an upright position. There’s an odd mixture of warm and cool throughout your body and you’re propped against something that’s almost hot. You breathe in and smell pine and leather, just like Arthur smelled when he saved you. As you dip again into that memory, the pain of your body begins coming back to you. 

You stir a bit and something moves against your back, rubbing softly. That’s when you feel arms wrapped around you. Your eyes creak open and you look up to see Arthur staring down at you. He sighs as though in relief. 

“Hey, darlin’,” he says. “Thank God you’re awake.” 

Despite the pain, you smile a bit and open your mouth to say something, but your voice doesn’t want to work. 

“Take it easy, sweetheart,” he says. One of his arms unwinds around you, leaving you a little cold. Then he hands you a tin cup full of water and he helps you drink it slowly. When the water’s gone, you start to remember the things that happened to you. 

“Arthur, I… I didn’t say anything to them,” you say, a sob working its way up your chest. He folds his arms around you again. 

“I know, darlin’, I know. Don’t worry about that, okay? Those bastards who hurt you are all dead, they can’t do that again.” 

The shock of the last few days comes to you and you begin to shiver, despite the humidity and the heat from the swamps outside. Arthur grabs the blanket on the bed packed against the wall and drapes it over you. 

“You’re okay, darlin’. I got ya, ain’t gonna let you go.” His words flow over you and the sob finally reaches your throat. He rubs your back as you cry into his chest again. You can’t understand why those men did such horrible things to you. It’s not like you had any hand in taking the manor from them. 

“Why, Arthur?” you sob. “Why’d they do that?” 

He sighs and brushes his lips against your forehead. “I don’t know, honey. They were evil men. You did nothing wrong and you didn’t deserve it, okay? Don’t ask yourself ‘why me’.” 

You nod and nestle closer into him, your left hand clutching onto the collar of his shirt, noticing the bandage around your wrist. He’s wearing his blue shirt but removed his black scarf, leaving the top three buttons undone. He’s done this before and you always struggled to avert your eyes from his exposed chest. However, you press your cheek to his bare skin. The physical contact is soothing and calming. He places a soft kiss on your forehead.

That takes you by surprise. You open your eyes and look up at him. “Arthur?” 

“Sorry,” he says, blushing. “I just… I was terrified I wouldn’t get to ya in time. That mornin’ they took you, I um, I was going to ask you somethin’ but they got you before I could.” 

He’s terrified and surprised he’s even asking you in the first place. However, when you were kidnapped, he knew he wanted you in his daily life. He was in love with you, he couldn’t deny that. He pauses for a moment, pondering what to say. If you tell him you’ve no interest in being with him, that’s going to make things incredibly awkward. 

“Arthur?” you say gently, your fingers delicately brushing his chest. “What were you going to ask?” 

“I um,” he hesitates again. He can’t look you in the face, his cheeks burn hot. “I was gonna ask ya if… If I could take ya to dinner or see one of them silly plays in Saint Denise.” 

Is he really asking you out on a date? Your stomach skips. You’ve no idea how many times you imagined him saying this, but you never thought it’d actually happen. Maybe you’re suffering hallucinations stemming from your condition, but you don’t care. You smile up at him and cup his cheek. 

“Well, I would have said yes if you asked me then. My answer isn’t changing now.” 

His lips stretch into a wide grin and then suddenly, they’re on yours. They’re slightly chapped and dry, but they’re warm. His lips move softly against yours, parting them just slightly as his tongue flicks over your lips. Your hand moves into his hair, tangling into them. 

Before things can go further, he breaks away. “Thank ya, darlin’. I ain’t ever lettin’ you go, not unless you want me to.” 

You smile at him and lay your head on his chest. It feels like a miniature version of the sun has taken residence in your own chest, sending warmth to your limbs. You suddenly can’t wait to be in well enough condition to go out with Arthur, but for now, you’re happy to stay in the safety and heat of his arms. He draws soft patterns into your skin, sending you back into an easy slumber. 


	25. The Outlaw Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hi, just wanted to say your portrayal of Arthur is so hot. Can you write some headcanons of him teaching the reader the way of an outlaw? ( She was normally a beautiful city girl in Saint Denis but meets him and becomes interested to know his way of living, kind of like Jack and Rose from Titantic.)

You’ve lived in Saint Denis for over twenty long, mostly good years. Your family moved here when you were little and you don’t remember your home before then. Your father got a job as a state official in the city which allowed you and your mother to live luxuriously. While it had its obvious perks, you’ve recently been finding yourself longing for something more. What that something is, you don’t know. 

The past few weeks you’ve taken your days to go to the library or one of the stores you never went to as a child since your parents didn’t see the need to visit them. Before, you used to spend most of your nights going to endless parties with your mother. Sometimes your father came, but most nights he locked himself away in his office to work. These parties used to be entertaining when you were a teen, but as you got older, you realized that they were designed more to reiterate the obvious differences of the sexes. The women always had to look perfect, the men refined. The girls with the most expensive jewelry or finest headdresses got the most attention and it seemed every couple of weeks, someone announced their engagement. The women who were engaged stopped coming to these parties and it left a horrible suspicion in your gut. 

One night, a few weeks back, you approached her mother and asked her what the function of these parties were for. She simply said that women of yours and hers positions were expected to attend these social outings, to keep up your good family name. However, one night at one of these parties, you overheard her talking to some of the other mothers how she was surprised you hadn’t found a husband yet. She was debating sending you to university to accomplish this very task. 

When you found out she was trying to marry you off, you hated her for it. How dare she try and dictate your life? Sure, you wanted to go to university, but you wanted to learn there, not find a man to marry. After that, you stopped going to many of these parties, despite your mother and the maids pressuring you to go. That was when you started leaving the house on your own in the early afternoon to go to the library or a new store. Your mother was highly disapproving, stating you needed a chauffeur, but you brushed her off every time stating that none of the other women in the city had them. 

You found yourself loving the library, something your father pointed out was useless. He stated if you really wanted a book, you could just buy it and not rent some dusty, worn out piece that everyone else used. You didn’t tell him you went to the library mostly to get away from your irritating mother. 

Today’s no different than most the others. Your mother told you there’s another party tonight, something at the art gallery. You left soon after she told you this. You know you’re pushing her patience and she’s likely to start having the maids or butler prevent you from leaving. Honestly you’re surprised it hasn’t already happened. Walking down one of the crowded streets of Saint Denis, you see an art supply store. On the window is a poster advertising art lessons. You’ve never tried your hand at anything artistic. Perhaps you can change that. You open the door and walk inside, looking at the various brushes, canvases, pencils and a plethora of tools you couldn’t even begin to name. There’s a small shelf with a stack of journals. 

As you’re looking around, a man walks in the store. You look up and know immediately he’s not from around here. He’s what your father would call a “yankee”. You’ve seen men like him in the books you’ve read. A man of the West. You’ve read about it, the heat, the deserts, the outlaws, bounty hunters and saloon girls. Lately you’ve been fantasizing about it. The whole idea of the West represents one thing to you: freedom. By the looks of this man, he’s been hardened by that freedom with his tanned, rough skin, his scuffed up leather hat and the spurs on his heels. He doesn’t glance at you and he walks over to a shelf with loads of drawing pencils. He inspects a few of them and then heads up to the counter, paying for one. You’re extremely curious about him and follow him out the door, staying a few paces back. 

You follow the rugged man down the street. He looks horribly out of place among the refined people dressed to their best that walk and linger about. He passes a tailor’s shop and you do too, passing a couple where the woman is blabbering about finding something in purple. 

The man turns down a smaller street, heading east in the city. If he keeps going, he’ll soon hit the slums of Saint Denis, a place you were never really allowed to visit. Your father said that only thieves and the scum of the city went. You doubt it’s true, your father has a lot of harsh opinions about people who don’t live the way he does. 

The man turns down an alleyway and when you follow him, you find he’s gone. There are no doors though, just a stack of crates against a wall. You furrow your brow and walk slowly down the way, wondering where he went. Was he just a figment of your imagination? He couldn’t be.

Just as you pass the crates, someone grabs you and pushes you into the wall, holding you hard against it.

“Why you followin’ me?” the man demands in a rough voice. You try to slow your breathing down.

“Please mister, I didn’t mean to frighten you. Would you believe I was simply curious?” 

“Curious? About what? What I got in my satchel, maybe?” 

“No, sir! Believe me when I say that I’ve no doubt I have much more money than you. Please mister, I meant no harm.” 

He glares at you with his hard, blue eyes and then lets you go. “Fine, I believe you. But do us both a favor and don’t follow me.” 

He stomps out of the alleyway, disappearing down the street. You rub your shoulder where he grabbed you. Something tells you he’s not just a cowboy from the west, perhaps something more. All you want to do is follow him again, but you decide not to. He’s not wearing that gunbelt just for show, after all. 

**********************

A few days later and you’re still thinking about the man you saw. You went back to the library, pulling out as many books as you could find on the West. The librarians gave you odd looks when you asked about them but said nothing. You study the books, finding several paintings of rugged men on horseback, running along scrubby deserts with proud vistas behind them. You read stories about gold panners, trappers, gunslingers, outlaws, sheriffs, ranglers, cowboys and ranchers. Your idea of the West grows and you’re even more drawn to it. You wish you could go there, but no way could you do it on your own. You don’t even know how to ride a horse, having always ridden in carriages and stages. You wish you could find the man again. He seems to be a doorway for something you desperately desire. 

When the library closes, you walk home slowly, fantasizing about what it must be like to live out West, to see the wide sweeping plains. Even to see a buffalo or an elk. Just as you’re passing down the street, two men come out of an alleyway. One of them pulls a revolver out and points it at you. 

“Give us all you got, lady,” he says. You gasp and freeze.

“Please, sirs, I don’t have any money on me. Not today anyways. Please, sirs, I beg you!” 

The men chuckle darkly and the one not holding a gun grabs you, taking you down the alleyway. “You rich people always have money. Now give it to us!” 

He pins you against a wall and slaps you hard. 

“Please, sir!” you beg. “I don’t have anything!” 

The man growls and takes your purse, rummaging through it. He pulls out the few bills you have in it and grins. “Ah, just what I thought. You did have money. I think, Jerald, we should make her pay for lying.” 

Jerald, holding the revolver, grins stupidly. “I like that idea, Harold.”

Harold pushes you back against the wall and tries to kiss you, but you fight back, slapping his face. He growls darkly and backhands you. “That ain’t a way for a lady to act!” 

He starts tugging at the top of your blouse, ripping a few of the top buttons off. 

“Help!” you scream. He slaps you again, cutting your lip. 

Suddenly, there’s a loud click behind the men and they turn to find the rugged man from the West pointing a shotgun at them. “I think you two should leave the lady alone,” he growls. 

Jerald drops the gun and runs off. Harold tries to as well, but the man grabs him by the collar. “I think you took somethin’ of hers. Give it back!” 

The man doesn’t wait for him to respond and he goes through his pockets, taking your money out. He lets Harold go, who runs off. You massage your shoulders and pull the top of your shirt closed with one hand. 

“Thank you, sir,” you say, blushing. The man shoulders his shotgun and hands you your money back.

“Ma’am, you a’right?” 

“Yes, thanks to you.” He hands you your money back but you don’t take it. “You keep it, sir. I have lots more at home. Please take it as payment for helping me.” 

He nods and puts it into his satchel, thanking you. “Ma’am, I hate to leave ya like this. Let me walk ya home. I’d feel better knowing you got there safe.” 

You sigh in relief. “Thank you, sir.” Normally you’d expect a man to hold out his arm for you to take, but he doesn’t. He gestures for you to walk next to him though. 

“Mister, you obviously are not from here, if you don’t mind me saying. May I ask where you’re from?” you say as you walk with him. 

He scratches his chin and you see two small scars hidden in the stubble. “Well, I ain’t really from anywhere. Been too many places to really be from any of ‘em.” 

“Are you from the West?” you say foolishly. 

He chuckles. “Well, I suppose I am. I only got here a week ago, ain’t ever been this far east.”

“Are you a gunslinger?” 

He laughs again. “Why? You like gunslingers?” 

“Sir, I’ve read a lot about the West. I’ve read that it’s untameable. A land of freedom and wilderness.” 

“So what? You fancy yourself livin’ out in the sticks with the animals?” 

“Perhaps, mister. It can’t be much worse than the city’s animals.” 

“No I guess it can’t. And between you and me, I prefer the other animals over the ones that live here,” he says. 

You stop in front of your home and turn to him. “Thank you again, mister. May I at least know the name of my rescuer?” 

“Arthur. Arthur Morgan.”

“Well, thank you again, Mr. Morgan.” You turn away to head inside when you look back at him. “Say, Mr. Morgan, would it be prudent of me to hope we meet again?” 

He chuckles and looks away. “Ain’t too sure why you’d wanna see me again.” 

You blush and look down. “Well, perhaps I’ve fallen in love with the ideas of the West, mister. But I have not had the luxuries to truly know it. Perhaps I’m being foolish, but something tells me you know a thing or two about how it really is.” 

He huffs a small laugh. “I guess I do. Well, ma’am, perhaps I can. I got some things to take care of, but if I see ya again, maybe we can have a little chat.” 

You smile, knowing it’s the best you can get. “Then I surely hope we meet again, Mr. Morgan.” 

****************

A week has passed since you were rescued by Arthur. You’ve found yourself hoping to see him around the city and you’ve been leaving earlier than usual, thinking you might bump into him. Finally you do. You’re in the garden near the mayor’s home, sitting on a bench and fanning yourself when you see him riding past on his horse. You get up and run over to him. 

“Mr. Morgan!” you say. He smiles when he sees you.

“Hello, ma’am. Hope you ain’t in trouble again.” 

“No, sir. Just enjoying the beautiful day. I hope I’m not being forward, but I was hoping we could have that chat. If you’re not too busy, that is.” 

He smiles and dismounts his horse, hitching it to a post. He follows you back into the garden and takes a seat next to you on the bench. There, he tells you stories of his own experiences out west. You get the feeling he’s leaving parts out, but you don’t push. As you listen, you realize your ideas of the West were heavily romanticised. Sure, there’s freedom out there and wide open spaces, but other people have freedom out there too and don’t necessarily have good intentions. He describes going to sleep many nights, wondering if his throat would get slit before morning. 

It’s nearly noon and you stop Arthur. You offer to buy him lunch and he accepts, taking you over to his horse. You had thought to take a stage or perhaps the trolley, but he hops onto his horse and then offers you his arm. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Morgan, but I’ve never ridden…” 

“Ya ain’t never ridden a horse?” he says. 

“No,” you say, feeling childish. He gestures for you with his arm again and you take it. He lifts you up easily to sit behind him, instructing you on how to sit and to hold onto his waist. You feel a bit wobbly on the horse, but he walks slow. When you get to the saloon on the main street, Arthur hops off and then helps you dismount. 

“Can’t believe ya ain’t never ridden a horse before,” he teases. 

“As I said before, Mr. Morgan, I have not had many of those kinds of luxuries in my life.” 

He chuckles and offers his arm, leading you inside where you get two plates of prime rib. Sitting at the table, Arthur continues on about some of his experiences about the west. After a while, he gets quiet. “So tell me what it’s like living in the city,” he says. 

“Oh trust me, very dull in comparison to your life, Mr. Morgan.” 

“Arthur. Call me Arthur. And I never did learn your name.” 

You tell him and then go on to describe your life. As you talk, telling of the parties, the chauffeurs and valets, you realize how meaningless and sad your life has been so far. You pause. “You must think I’m such a silly girl,” you say, looking down at your empty plate. “I’ve had all these conveniences in my life but it’s so boring and droll. Yet here you are, a lifetime of adventures and knowledge and you don’t have my luxuries.” 

“If ya don’t mind me sayin’, miss, it sounds awful,” he admits. “I don’t fancy city livin’. Give me the open country any day and I’m a happy man.” 

“I’ve never really been to open country. I’ve only read about it and seen it in paintings.” 

“Would you like to change that?” he asks. You look up at him in surprise, sure he’s just playing. Instead, his face is serious. 

“I’d love to, Arthur, but I don’t know if that’s possible.” 

“Sure it is. First thing you’ll have to do is learn to ride a horse. Can’t go far without one. You say you got money?” You nod. “Good. Then maybe, after you get acquainted with how to ride one, you can get one yourself.” 

He makes plans with you to meet up every few days and have you learn how to ride his horse. The thought is a little daunting but you’re determined. 

*******************

It’s been three weeks since Arthur promised to teach you how to survive in the open country. You’ve met up with him at least three times a week to ride his horse. He’s a wonderful teacher, able to read his horse like a book and tell you how to respond. In the beginning, you were awful, hardly able to hold yourself straight or maintain balance. After a few lessons, though, you got the hang of it. He hasn’t had you do faster than a steady trot and you’re not confident enough in yourself to try faster than that. 

You finish today’s lesson, which involved pivoting and tight turns, and the sun glints off his gun in its belt. “You, uh, ever have to use that?” you ask, nodding to it. 

“More than I’d care to admit,” he says. He looks more tired today, but won’t go into why. You know by now he doesn’t live in the city and he seems to be part of a party, but again he’s very tight lipped about all of it. You don’t care to pressure him either, grateful to have such a willing teacher. 

“Could… could you teach me how to use it?” you ask, wondering if you’re pushing your luck. Your father certainly wouldn’t be happy if he found out. He has very firm ideas on what men and women should be allowed to do and he finds guns abhorrent. You don’t care though. 

Arthur fingers the butt of his gun. “Perhaps, though I ain’t too sure it’ll ever come in useful for you.” 

“I’m not saying it will, but I like to learn, Mr. Morgan. Forgive me for my craving of knowledge.” 

“No apologies needed, ma’am. Well, I guess I can teach ya. Only we’ll have to do it outside the city. I don’t know much about this place, but I’m sure folk around here don’t take kindly to gun shots.” 

He’s right on that front, so you agree to meet him outside of the city limits for horseback riding and gun shooting. It’s a location out in the swamps south of Lakay. On your way home that day, you stop by the stables and decide to buy a horse, knowing it’ll be less conspicuous of you to meet him alone rather than have a driver of a stage take you out there. You buy a rather handsome blood bay stallion named Jake. He’s got an incredibly soft disposition, even though he’s a very tall horse, but it’s perfect for you.

Before heading home, you stop at the general store to buy some clothes. You’ve never been in this one by the train tracks as your servants bought everything you needed and your clothes were all custom made. However, riding horses in skirts and dresses were proving to be difficult and uncomfortable. You look at the clothes sold in the store and find some jeans and button down shirts. You’ve never worn pants before, your mother always said it was improper for a lady of your class. 

You try the jeans on in the dressing room, thinking they feel almost too constricting but you’re able to still move in them. You buy the jeans and a few shirts along with a hat and boots and then mount Jake. It feels odd to be riding your own horse in these new clothes through the city. Once home, you stable Jake, explain to the stable boys to keep quiet and change clothes in his stall.

************************

Another couple of weeks have passed since you bought Jake. He earned Arthur’s approval immediately. He’s taken to teaching you more than just how to ride and shoot a gun, but also how to start a fire, cook your own food and a few other things that are required to live outdoors. He’s been toying with the idea of teaching you how to hunt as well, which you’re optimistic of. 

More and more, you’ve found yourself yearning for his lifestyle. You’ve come to realize that living out of the city means you live without expectation. People won’t demand you to get married or dress certain ways or eat certain food. You could truly be who you are out there. 

Not only that, you’ve grown fond of the cowboy. While he’s definitely got rough edges and a short fuse, he’s incredibly patient and kind. One day you were learning how to shoot his shotgun and two men rode by, taunting you that someone as little and “refined” as you couldn’t do it. Arthur yelled at them and drove them off, the sight of him was intimidating. It didn’t help that he was so big in the shoulders and chest, nor that he was handsome. You often found yourself lost in his eyes. You hoped you weren’t getting a crush on him, that would only make things awkward and complicated, but at the same time, you knew you could do a lot worse than him. You didn’t know if he was sweet on you though, his behavior didn’t change much, so you kept your own behavior in check.

You’re preparing to go out and meet Arthur now. You’re in your room, putting on a day dress as you keep your riding clothes hidden in Jake’s stall. Your parents luckily haven’t caught on yet. A knock comes to the door and your father strides in. He announces that he, your mother, and more importantly you, are going to a party at the mayor’s mansion. You try to argue with him, telling him you have premade plans. He glares at you.

“Your mother and I know you’re up to something, young lady. People are beginning to talk. Why, your poor mother was told by many of her friends last week at the gala that they haven’t seen you but they’ve heard of someone who sounds like you hanging around some damn yankee. Now I know that can’t be you, you were raised with finer tastes than that. But we need to squash these rumors. You are coming with us tonight and I won’t hear another word.” 

He leaves your room and two maids come in, holding a fine dress, petticoat and corset, prepared to make you over. You’ve no choice, you realize, since it’ll be unlikely for you to be left alone at this point. You change into the uncomfortably tight dress and then head out to this awful party with your family in your father’s stagecoach. There, your mother reprimands you yet again for having skipped out on so many dinners and dances. “I do hope you’re learning a lot out of those books you’ve been reading,” she says. “The way you’re going, I’d think you were already enrolled in university.” 

“Oh I have been learning a lot,” you say much more brusquely than you would have normally. Now that you’re spending so much time with Arthur and away from the city, you’ve started to drop the refined ways you used to talk in, picking up a much more leisurely Southern drawl. 

“And what have you been reading up on?” your father asks. 

“I’ve been studying the wild West,” you admit. 

“Filthy place,” your mother says. “Bandits and thieves, running around with the savages. Might as well be running with the animals.” 

“It ain’t like that, mama,” you say. “Them people you call ‘savages’ are just people who lost everything to savagery. It’s not like they came out, met us white folk and just started slaughtering us. No, we stole their land and their property first. We started out as the savages.” 

“I don’t much like your tone, young lady,” your father says. “We’ve done nothing wrong and we cannot control the actions of those who came before us. Besides, our families have never been farther west than Rhodes. Thank God for that, too. Why, people like us would get robbed on every turn of the trail out west.” 

“How do you know, pa? You ain’t never been out there. They’re just as capable of goodness out in the west as we are here in the east.” 

“Enough, Y/N,” he says. “I’m weary of this conversation. I suggest you focus your attention on other places of study. Now try and enjoy this party. And for God’s sake, drop your strange accent. It’s unbefitting.” 

You glare right back at him, but decide not to argue. More and more you’ve been teasing the idea of asking Arthur if you can run away with him. You’ve never had so much fun in your life than when you’re with him. No one’s there to tell you to walk better, dress better. You can be who you are with him. Stranger yet is the knowledge that he likes who you are. 

You used to be rougher when you were a kid. You’d get into fights with some of the poorer kids, rough-housing and chasing them. You came home many days with rips in your skirts or scraped elbows and your mother detested it. One day, all the kids you played with disappeared and months later, you found out it was because your parents threatened their parents to keep them away from you and your home. Then your mother enrolled you in an all girls’ school so you could learn to be a proper lady and the ideas of how to be one were driven hard into you. 

The stage rolls up on the mayor’s mansion and you follow your parents to the courtyard in the back, facing the river. You’ve only been here a couple of times and have never liked any of the parties held here. This is where the worst of the worst come to show how proud of themselves they are. Only the most elite ladies get in with their rich husbands. Your mother automatically finds her gaggle of friends and heads over to them. Your father finds a group of men that surround the mayor. You grab a glass of champagne and head over to a table covered in fruits and various desserts. 

A man takes a stand next to you. “Ah, quite decadent aren’t they?” he says in a polished accent. You look at the man with his slicked back hair and thin, twirled mustache. He wears an expensive suit. He gives you a low bow and introduces himself as Frederick Von Guard. 

“Your mother speaks highly of you, if you don’t mind my saying, miss,” he continues, plucking a grape and eating it. You don’t like him at all. He seems like every other man at this horrible party: full of himself and suffering from a major God complex. You once saw men who wear suits as sophisticated and desirable, but as you’ve gotten older, you find men who wear them to be hiding some great insecurity. You talk as little as possible to him without being outright rude and before long he’s flirting with you. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Von Guard,” you say, putting your glass down. “I hate to depart your company, but I have other business to attend to.” 

“Can’t imagine what that could possibly be,” he says, twirling his mustache. “After all, your mother said you were already engaged.” 

“Engaged? Well, as in business, sure.” 

“No, she said engaged. As in betrothed.” 

“You must have misheard, mister,” you say, dropping your accent into the southern drawl. “You clearly misheard her.” 

“Oh no,” he says, grabbing your elbow hard. “I did not. She approached me a week or so back, stating how you’re far too old to not be married and I am a well-endowed bachelor.”

You suddenly realize what he’s saying. “I’m not engaged to you, mister. I ain’t even met you before!” 

“Like that’s something important, my dear. I have enough money to let you live comfortably for the rest of your life. You could be very happy, if you let me make that happen.” 

“Get off me!” you say, shaking off his hand. You run through the crowd of minglers, trying to keep the tears at bay. You stop at another table covered in champagne bottles and more glasses. You try recollecting yourself, feeling terrified of the news you just heard. Did your mother really arrange your own engagement?

“Pardon, ma’am, may I offer you some champagne?” a familiar voice comes behind you. When you turn and see Arthur, you don’t think before throwing yourself into his arms.

“Arthur!” you say, trying not to let your tears spill. He stumbles back and pulls you away gently, clearly not wanting to attract attention. He’s become the closest thing you have to a friend and it’s a wonderful relief to see him during this dark hour. Then you realize he shouldn’t be here. He’s wearing a fine suit and would fit in just fine if it wasn’t for his loose hair and stubble on his chin. 

“What are you doing here? No offense, but this ain’t your kind of place.” 

“I’m workin’,” he explains. “Just needed to find something out about the guest of honor.” 

“Mr. Bronte? Arthur, don’t trust him. My father has had dealings with him and he’s a real bastard.” 

“Trust me, I’m aware of that, Y/N. Now what are you doing here?” 

You sigh and look around to make sure no one you know is around. You turn and explain your predicament. “Arthur, please help me. I know you’ve already done so much, but I can’t do this!” Your eyes are threatening to spill again. “Please, Arthur.” 

He nods and pats your shoulder. “Okay. Sneak out of here, if you can. I’ll meet you at your house in fifteen minutes, get ya somewhere safe.” 

You sigh in relief and resist the urge to throw your arms around him again. He heads off to talk with the mayor. A few moments pass and across the river, fireworks launch into the air. Everyone’s distracted by the show, allowing you the chance to leave. You sneak out of the courtyard, feeling grateful for Arthur’s willingness to help. 

Once you’re clear of the mansion, you don’t even bother trying to get a stage or the trolley. You just run home quickly since it isn’t too far away. You dash inside and surprise the butler. 

“Miss, aren’t you supposed to be at the party with your father? I remember he mentioned he had a surprise for you.” 

“Oh no doubt. But I’m… I’m not feeling well. I told my father and he knows I’ve come home. He also said you can be done for the night.” 

“Very well, miss. I hope you feel better soon.” He heads off to the servant’s quarters and you dash up to your room. As quickly as possible, you pack a bag with some of the things you’re sure to need and then run out to the stables. There, you rip your dress off and change into your jeans and button down shirt. Then, as quickly as you can, you start grooming Jake.

“You ready?” a soft voice says, startling you. 

“Arthur! Thank God. Almost. Oh Arthur. This is terrible. I mean, I’ve been thinking of running away for a couple of weeks now, but it’s so sudden! I haven’t had a chance to mentally prepare myself.” 

He smiles and walks over to you, still wearing his suit. “I know, darlin’. But listen, I need to tell you a few things about myself before you decide to throw yourself into this lifestyle.” He pauses and scratches his chin. “I ain’t a gunslinger, miss, or a cowboy or wrangler. I don’t know what you think I was, but I ain’t none of those things. I’m an outlaw.” 

He stops, letting you process this information. Of course you’ve read about outlaws. However, you couldn’t deny there wasn’t something that drew you to them. 

“So, you’re uh, you’re a wanted man?” 

“Yes, Y/N. I have been most of my life. And I ain’t alone. I’m with a gang o’ outlaws. I already spoke to our leader. Name’s Dutch. He’s okay wit’chu spending some time with us, but I warn ya, Y/N. It ain’t a pretty life.” 

“It beats what I’m leaving behind, Mr. Morgan.” 

He smiles at you and pats your shoulder. “Good. Now let’s get your horse saddled up.” He carries over the heavy saddle and throws it over Jake’s back. Then, when he’s ready, you mount up and follow Arthur out of the city, prepared to begin your new life with him.


	26. No one's ever done that to me before - Modern Arthur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No ones ever done that to me before with Arthur please! Female reader if possible

You’ve had a horrible day. It seems that from the moment you got out of bed, just about everything that could go wrong has. You were late to work because of a massive traffic accident and your boss said he didn’t want that as an excuse for your lateness and you should have checked traffic conditions when you got out of bed. Not only that, but the office has been having network issues off and on all day and because of it, you and your coworkers aren’t able to help clients as efficiently as you’d normally do. The result of this is you get yelled at by multiple clients over the phone. 

By lunch time, you’ve already had enough of it. You went into the bathroom just so you could have a breakdown for a few moments. That was when Arthur texted you, asking you how you’re doing. It’s his day off, but even if he were at work, he always texts you during your lunch hour. You just texted back saying it’s been a rough day and he responds with a sad face emoji, but then you have to go right back to work before you can say anything else. 

The afternoon proved to be no better than the morning. More screaming clients, continued network issues. Your boss is angry with everyone. Usually he’s pretty collected, but he’s been an asshole to everyone today, including you. It’s a relief when he gets pulled into a two hour meeting. You grabbed yourself a cup of coffee to try and help keep things going, but then the mail guy accidentally spilled it, covering your desk. He said sorry but then went on his way, leaving you to clean up the mess. 

Arthur texted you multiple times and you’ve answered them when you can, but you can’t really go into too much detail. However, halfway through the afternoon, after a client called and got angry and said some pretty horrible things to you, you took a break and headed outside to get a breath of fresh air. You called Arthur then and cried to him a little, just stating how hard of a day you’ve had. He offers words of comfort and tells you how amazing you are, but without being physically there, he can’t do too much. You thank him though and head back inside. 

An hour before your workday ends, the network finally gets back up to working properly and your boss threatens everyone to stay an extra two hours to clean up the mess. That was when his supervisor came in and told him they couldn’t do that as it was no one’s fault the network had problems. You silently thanked him, feeling like you dodged a bullet. However, the last hour was like a tornado. People running around everywhere, trying to get as much work done as they can in the last hour. 

Right when the clock strikes five, your phone rings. It’s Arthur and he’s just making sure you’re coming home. You thanked him and promised you’d be home soon. You’re in the car now and you’re sobbing. On days like this, you detest your job. Sure, you don’t have to deal with the public as much as past jobs you’ve had, but still enough that you can’t just tell rude clients to fuck off like you want to. You still have to put on that happy smile and pretend like it doesn’t phase you. It does though and it takes a lot out of you. It doesn’t help that your boss was an absolute shithead today either. He’s not the friendliest guy, but he’s always been reasonable until today. 

When you pull into your driveway, you take a moment to compose yourself. You don’t want to be a downer for Arthur when this is his first day off in two weeks. You put on your happy face and head inside only to find that most of the lights are off, a soft orange flickering from the kitchen. 

Arthur walks out of the kitchen with a soft smile. “Hey, sweetheart,” he says in a calm voice. 

“What’s all this? What’s going on?” you ask.

He walks over and takes your bag from you. “Sounds like you had a pretty bad day. Wanted to make you feel good about something. Now come on, let’s get you into something comfy.” 

He leads you into the bedroom and you see he’s already laid out your favorite baggy t-shirt and lounge pants. You quickly strip off your uncomfortable shoes and clothes and put on your comfy clothes. He smiles at you and takes you to the kitchen. There, you find he’s lit the room with some candles and laid out the table with your favorite meal already waiting. 

“You did this for me?” you ask. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, putting a hand on your back. “And when you’re done with dinner, I’m gonna draw you up a nice bath with your favorite salts. Like I said, I want ya to feel good.” 

“Arthur,” you say, trying not to tear up. “You didn’t have to do this for me. You haven’t had a day off in so long, you should’ve used it doing something that makes you happy.” 

“This does make me happy. I just want ya to feel good, darlin’.”

You turn around and give him a light kiss before heading over to the table. He pulls out your chair, sliding it in when you sit down. 

After dinner, you start heading towards the bathroom when he grabs you and pulls you into a tight hug. He pins you against him and you happily bury your face into his chest. That’s when the tears come. He rubs your back softly and murmurs in your ear that it’s going to be okay and it’ll be better tomorrow. You cry yourself out on his shirt and even when you can’t let go of anymore tears, you stay in his arms. He just feels so safe and warm and how amazing it is to finally have someone there to help you stand when you can’t anymore. 

He whispers in your ear, “How about that bath, sweetheart?” 

You nod and he kisses you again before he takes you to the bathroom and turns on the water. When it’s full enough, you strip and are about to get into the tub when he stops you. You turn and see he’s nude as well. You give him a curious look and he just chuckles.

“Just thought you might like some company in here.” You smile up at him and he gets into the tub, letting you slide in front of him, resting your back on his chest. His arms fold around you comfortingly. After a while, he speaks up. “Maybe after this, I can really make you feel good, hmm?” 

You shiver a little, knowing he’s talking about fooling around. “That sounds amazing, Arthur. You always know how to make me happy in that bedroom.” You turn around and kiss him. “Thank you, Arthur. No one has ever done this for me before.”

He smiles and kisses you back. “You deserve this, darlin’. You’ve no idea how much you’ve changed my life since I met you and I never want to go back. I love you.”


	27. Clingy Arthur - Modern

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Can you do something with a very (VERY) clingy Arthur and a female reader. Modern times. Like she could be doing things and he calls a lot or texts a lot. But he does it outta love and cuz he’s scared of losing her

You’ve been in a relationship with Arthur for nearly a year. He works on a ranch only about thirty minutes out of the city you live in. There’s something incredibly refreshing about dating a rancher. Perhaps it’s the fact that he doesn’t live in the city, or that he retains a certain sense of masculinity that you find attractive. It’s not toxic luckily and Arthur’s always held a respect for you and other women, but he still holds himself to a certain standard. Plus he looks super good in his rugged clothes, worn out by years of use and faded by long hours in the sun. 

Every weekend, you’ll go and stay at his place. He offered to switch with you every other weekend to stay in your apartment, but you need the break from the crowded city and the rude people who live there. His ranch, nestled in a bowl made by mountains and cradled in a forest, is exactly the kind of release you need every week, even in the bitter cold winters. He doesn’t mind of course, and you know it saves him some money so he won’t have to hire someone to tend his livestock for two days. 

When you first started dating Arthur, he was incredibly respectful of your space and time, but after you were together for six months and finally slept together, something in him changed. Something better. He became more open with you and more touchy. You’d always been a bit touch-averted, a product of your childhood and a general distrust of people. There was something about him that made you able to warm up to him. You even found yourself longing for his touch and it didn’t help that when he held you against him, you fit like a puzzle piece. 

Over the last three months you’ve been with him, he’s gotten a little more clingy. He texts you every day, usually just asking how you are and what you’re up to. He also likes to video call you just about every night. When he first started doing it, you were kind of skeeved out about it, worried he’d be getting possessive, jealous, or suspicious. Your previous boyfriend was like that. He demanded you show him all the texts you’d sent over a period of the last few days, constantly accusing you of cheating without any proof. You weren’t, of course and then you found out after a couple of months that he was. You were worried when Arthur would ask where you were, suspicious he’d accuse you of cheating. He never did though, he just said he wanted to make sure you were safe. 

Arthur doesn’t like the city, he never has. It’s too crowded for his taste, the people too selfish. Sure, his small town has its problems, of course. The youth in it are particularly involved in drugs and underaged drinking, but there’s a strong sense of community and friendliness to it. Everyone looks out for each other and helps one another. Something you’ve never seen in the city. But Arthur’s dislike of the city leads him to constantly worry about you. He fears you getting attacked, robbed or even in a car accident. That’s why he likes to check in on you once a day, just to be sure you’re safe. 

When Arthur first started doing this, you were worried he’d demand to go through your phone like your last boyfriend did. However, never once did he ask you to unlock your phone so he could go snooping through it. He never even asked for the code to unlock it. Once, you asked him why, incredibly suspicious. He looked shocked that you thought he’d want to do something like that. “Your privacy is somethin’ ain’t no one got a right to, darlin’,” he said. “I ain’t ever gonna try and invade that.” 

After that, your trust of him grew even more and so did your relationship. It’s been nearly a year now and you’re absolutely crazy about him. You also long for his lifestyle. Sure, your job pays a little more, but you’ve helped him on the weekends at his ranches and there’s something satisfying about the work. The constant movement, being outdoors, interacting with the animals. You’ve grown particularly fond of one of his mares he named Boadicea. You’ve found yourself fantasizing more and more about doing that full time, quitting your job in the city and just living with Arthur. You doubt it could happen though. There simply isn’t enough money in it, which you hate thinking that way, but in this world, you simply can’t get by without some means of decent money. 

The physical distance hasn’t put a damper in your relationship, though. You were afraid for the first few months that it would be the thing to break you apart. Part of you still fears that, but you recall a night from two months back. One of his fears came true when you were in a car accident. It wasn’t your fault and it wasn’t bad, though it totaled your car. You’d been sitting at a light when someone, who was suspected to be on their phone, slammed into the rear of your car. Luckily no one was hurt, but it shook you up quite a bit. As you sat on the side of the road while the police worked on cleaning things up, you called Arthur and told him what happened. He lived over thirty minutes away from where you were, but he got there in twenty. When he got there, he almost looked like he wanted to deck the person who hit you in the face, but he didn’t. He stayed close to you the entire time and when the police had your car towed and said you could leave, he helped you into his truck and drove you immediately to an instacare room. You said you felt fine, but he wanted to be absolutely sure you were okay. After a checkup, the doctor deemed you’d be fine, just sore for a few days. 

Arthur drove you home that night and as soon as you’d changed into some comfy pajamas, he threw a blanket around you and held you close. It was a good thing too, because the shock set in then and you began to shake and cry. He held you the entire night. He stayed with you for a week as well, only going back to his ranch when you were at work. He drove you there and picked you up everyday until you got your insurance money and were able to buy a new car. Arthur helped you pick it and you loved it. It got better mileage than your last did, which meant you didn’t have to waste so much gas on the weekends when you went to see him. 

You’re headed home now and your phone dings. It’s probably Arthur, texting you to make sure you’re okay. When you reach a light you know won’t change for a few moments, you pick up the phone. Instead of the usual, it says: “face time tonight?” You reply, “Yes”.

As soon as you’re home and settled to be in your house the rest of the night, you open your laptop and call him up. He responds immediately with a big grin. 

“Hey, sweetheart. I, uh, I wanted to talk to ya about something,” he says. 

“I do too, honey.”

He invited you to go first and you rush into the news quickly. “I talked with the higher ups at my work. They said they could get me set up to work remotely from my laptop, but that I’d still have to come in on Tuesdays for the weekly meetings.”

His face splits into a grin. “That’s funny, because what I wanted to ask ya goes along with that. Darlin’, I was thinkin’ we could move in together. You could live here, I know ya hate that apartment of yours.” 

You look around at said apartment. You have hated it here. Three long years of paying for three overpriced rooms with a landlord who hardly gives two shits about anything that goes wrong with it. And a lot goes wrong since it’s an older building. 

“You’d be okay with that?” you ask. “I know you’ve lived alone for the past few years.” 

He told you about how he grew up with his uncles Dutch and Hosea, who owned the ranch and took him in as a young boy. They passed away a few years back, leaving Arthur alone. 

“Darlin’, if I wasn’t okay, I wouldn’t be asking you. Besides, like you said, I been alone these past few years. I’m ready for somethin’ different. What do you think?” 

Your face splits into a huge grin and you tell him how excited you are. He chuckles and then says he has a surprise for you. Before you can ask him what it is, he disconnects. You try texting him and even calling him, wondering if your service is having problems again. Another problem with this damn apartment. 

Thirty minutes later, a knock comes on your door and Arthur walks in, holding a bundle of beautiful flowers. As soon as he walks in, he pulls you into his arm and kisses you. “You’ve made me a very happy man, Y/N. I just hope…” 

“You have made me happy,” you say, cupping his cheek. “I am so excited to live with you! Your ranch is gorgeous.” 

“I was just thinking maybe living out there could do you some good, darlin’. Help you heal.”

You kiss him softly. “I’ve no doubt about that. But why’d you get me flowers, Arthur? Did…. did you take them out of your garden? You shouldn’t have! It’s not even Valentine’s Day.” 

He chuckles, letting you talk. “I’d rather get you flowers I grew myself on a random Thursday rather than some overpriced, half dead common roses on the day everyone else gets them for their significant other. I just want ya to know how much I love you.” 

He kisses you again and you respond by taking his hand and leading him to your bedroom. You’re suddenly excited for everything the future has in store.


	28. Fenton (Arthur) Bumps into a Mysterious Woman part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hey! I got one for you. (saw a post that you like Arthur as Fenton.) He isn't allowed to talk, only serve the men in the saloon. He spots the beautiful reader and curses himself because he can't do anything. When his job is done, he looks for her but ends up finding out she's long gone.

Arthur was not happy. Not happy at all. When Hosea approached him to go and sell the moonshine back to the Braithwaites, it seemed simple enough. That was until old Catherine Braithwaite told him and Hosea to give it out for free at the Rhodes Saloon to flick the Gray’s noses. He was fine with that until Hosea came up with the “brilliant” idea to act like a brother duo and he had to play a mute. 

Arthur hated playing dress up. It’d been many years since he’d had to do it. In fact, the last time he’d done it, he was still in his teens. That was when he was still with Mary and before even John showed up. He thought it’d be the last time too. So when Hosea pulled out the straw hat and pipe and told him to act like a mute moron, he wasn’t thrilled in the slightest. 

He’s been serving drinks for only a few moments now in the Rhodes saloon. Most of the patrons are men, of course. A couple of women hang around, but for the most part he doesn’t notice them. That’s until he looks up at the winding staircase leading to the upper floor and sees you. He thinks you’re beautiful. Not in the traditional sense, by any means. There’s just something about the way you hold yourself, the way you don’t seem bothered by the fact that your clothes are more simple than the other women’s. But what really attracts his attention is your eyes when they meet his as you’re descending. 

He fears you may end up leaving with your friend, but instead the two of you make your way to the bar, curious about the commotion. Your friend looks at the drinks Arthur’s serving and hears Hosea shout: “More moonshine, Fenton!” She wrinkles her nose. 

“Oh, moonshine,” she says. “Foul drink. Never did like it much.” 

“What’s wrong with it?” you ask. Arthur’s even attracted to your voice. There’s a certain roughness to it. He’s not used to it as so many of the women in this town try and speak as though they’re more educated and refined. He listens closely as he pours more shots. 

“It’s an overstrong liquor, Y/N,” your friend says. “Tastes like the last thing one should be putting into their mouths.” 

“Oh I can think of a lot worse,” you say, grabbing a shot glass he’d just put down. You throw the stuff back and grunt as the alcohol hits the back of your throat. “Sure, it’s strong, but hey no one drinks alcohol for the taste.” 

“Well, if you want to drink that waste, go ahead,” your friend says, throwing Arthur a dirty look and then storming out. 

You grab another shot and smile at him apologetically. “Sorry about her. She’s… I don’t really know how to describe her, but she’s the only friend I got.” You throw the drink back and put the empty shot glass down. 

“What was your name again?” you ask. Arthur so desperately wants to answer you, but Hosea comes over before he can break his act. He slaps a hand on your shoulder. “Hello, miss. My name’s Melvin. This here’s my brother Fenton. Don’t mind him, he’s turned idiot. Don’t make him mad though. Our poor mami, she made him mad and well, we buried her.” 

Several of the men listening guffaw and clink glasses. You, however, look hard at Arthur with curious eyes. “He don’t seem idiotic to me.” 

You study him for a moment. He’s surely big but there’s something in his eyes that says he’s capable of far more than brutality. He blushes at the way you look at him. He wants nothing more than to drop the act and talk to you properly, but Hosea keeps calling him to pour more drinks. You ask him for another and he hands you a shot glass. Your hand brushes his and it’s like there’s a spark between you. You smile and drink quickly. 

Just as Arthur’s about to finally say something, the front doors slam open and a troop of Lemoyne Raiders marches in. They yell at Hosea, accusing him of stealing their moonshine. Gun shots ring out and Arthur pulls out his guns. He looks to where you were standing to tell you to get yourself into cover, but you’re gone. 

Arthur and Hosea end up fleeing from Rhodes. When they’re out of range of the few surviving Raiders, he drops Hosea off at Clemens Point and then quickly heads back to Rhodes, exchanging hats. Once he’s in town, he starts asking around for people who might know you. He describes you as best he can, but no one knows who he’s talking about. It was like you were never there. It’s late in the night when he finally sits down on the train station steps, wishing he could find you. He remembers the spark from when your hands briefly touched. He looks up at the stars, remembering how your eyes glittered. He wonders if he’ll ever find you again.


	29. Fenton (Arthur) Bumps into a Mysterious Woman part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Can you do another version of that blog some other anon sent of Arthur as Fenton but with smut or whatever you said?

Arthur wishes he could find you again. Although you interacted for a few brief moments in the Rhodes Saloon, there’d been an unquestionable spark. He silently curses Hosea, which he rarely does, for making him play the part of a mute brute. He sits on the train station steps, wondering where you are now. He’d asked around town to see if anyone knew you, but no one did. He wondered if he’d imagined you, but he couldn’t have. He wasn’t that creative nor did he think he was that desperate for affection. 

He remembers the way your hand felt when his brushed yours. Your skin was soft, smooth, warm. He remembers the way your voice sounds, the way your eyes glittered, holding a secret intelligence. He hangs his head, realizing this will be the only encounter with you he’ll ever have. 

Later that night, he’s in Rhodes again. As the sun begins to dip beneath the trees, he returns a doctor’s wagon to him. The poor man’s wagon had been stolen from some Lemoyne Raiders who were angry about a black man being wealthier and more intelligent than they were. He’d happily killed the Raiders and felt good about returning the doctor’s wagon to him. As the doctor waves to him and drives off, Arthur glances over to the saloon. His eyes must be deceiving him. You’re standing nearly on the stairs of the saloon, looking inside as though afraid more Raiders are there and prepared to shoot the place up again. He walks slowly towards you, his eyes never leaving you for fear you might disappear. 

You look over to him suddenly and your furrowed brows lift up in recognition and you smile, making his heart jump. “Fenton, right? Do you know what happened to this place? Oh, sorry, I forgot. Your brother told me you can’t speak.” As he walks closer to you, you start fumbling with your hands. Then you look up at him and smile again as he stops only feet from you. “You’re not an idiot, are you?” you say.

He can’t help but smile and hide his eyes beneath his hat. “Afraid I ain’t, ma’am. My friend and I was just in there tryin’ to get rid of some moonshine we stumbled across.” 

“I know,” you say, putting your hands on your hips. “Knew you were acting, anyways. After all, you didn’t even have your pipe lit.” 

He blinks and then chuckles. “Well, I hope you was the only one who noticed.”

You walk up to him and stare into his eyes. God, why do yours have to be so beautiful? He could stare into them and happily be lost for a hundred years. “So is Fenton your real name? Or do you just use that for the stage?” 

He smiles again. “Name’s Arthur. Arthur Morgan. And you?” 

“Y/N.” You look around suddenly as though just now becoming aware of the setting sun. “Say, Arthur, would you care to take a walk with me? Saloon’s still closed from that stunt you and your friend pulled a couple nights back. I came here to get away from my charming friend, who you met. She’s driving me crazy. Thought I’d get some drinks but, well, like I said. Saloon’s closed.” 

“Well, I got a few bottles of liquor on me,” he says. “Sure, I’ll walk with ya.” 

You impress him when you wrap your arm around his and walk off down the street. As you two meander, you compliment his exchange in hats. “That straw one would have looked silly on any person,” you say. He blushes again. He’s never fallen for anyone so quickly, but he’s already finding himself staring at your lips. He wonders if they’re as soft and warm as the rest of your skin. 

You walk towards the trees on the other side of the tracks to get a better view of the sunset. Once in the cover of some oaks, Arthur pulls out a few bottles of alcohol and you impress him again by taking a bottle of whiskey and taking a hard chug from it. He shouldn’t be, of course, he’s been sent under the table by Karen in drinking games. Still, he wonders if there isn’t a single thing you could do that he wouldn’t find impressive. 

He has no idea that you’ve fallen for him just as quickly. From the moment you saw him, you thought he was attractive and as you told him, you knew instantly he wasn’t a mute or an idiot. You’ve known people who lacked the ability to speak and many of them held their mouths in certain ways. He lacked that movement which told you instantly he could speak. Not only that, his eyes told you he’d seen and witnessed many things. It didn’t help that he was incredibly handsome and big. Lord, there was no denying he was big. You can’t help but slide a hand up his arm and to his shoulder just to see if it feels as firm as it looks. In fact, your imagination doesn’t do him justice. He blushes when you touch his shoulder and you notice the two little scars hidden in the stubble on his chin. Your eyes travel up to his lips.

A few drinks later and you’re struggling to keep a hold of yourself. You and Arthur have talked quite a bit under the shade of the trees and the sun’s long gone by this point. You’ve told him about your life, why you’re down here with your annoying and stuck-up friend. Arthur tells you a lot about himself (though not about his gang) and divulges a bit more about the events that led to your first meeting. 

You’ve forgotten how handsy you get when even just slightly drunk. Arthur takes off his hat for a moment and before you can stop yourself, you reach over and brush your hands through his hair. He stiffens to your touch and looks over at you. His look makes you quickly withdraw your hand. Shit, you’ve really screwed up. “Sorry,” you say, blushing. “I don’t know why I did that.” 

Without warning, his lips are on yours. It’s your turn to stiffen up, but it’s a pleasant surprise. His lips are rough but warm against yours. Your arms wind up around his neck and his loop behind your back as he pulls you deeper into the kiss. Your tongue flits out to explore his lips and his meets yours. The kiss suddenly becomes more fierce and you’re breathing heavy. It’s at that moment you feel something poking into your right hip. The realization of what it is makes you pull away. 

“Sorry,” he says, unwinding his arms and taking a step back, clearly embarrassed about his reaction as he angles himself so you can’t see. “Please don’t think I wanna take advantage of ya.” 

Your blood is rushing now and there’s a pleasant heat radiating down between your legs. God, it’s been a long time since you were with another man and the last guy was definitely not as handsome or as considerate as Arthur is. Before he can start over-thinking what’s just happened, you reach over and begin unbuttoning his shirt. “Maybe I want you to,” you say, your eyes staring hard into his. 

He blushes again as you push his shirt away, exposing his chest. He’s hairy in just the right places and you run your fingers through the strands on his chest. His hands settle on your hips and he gently pushes you against the tree. You lean forward and kiss him again, trying to tell him you want to go even further. He kisses you back and then your hands glide down to grab his stiff cock through his pants. He hisses and his lips leave yours and go to your neck. He starts brushing a sweet spot on your neck, making you close your eyes and sigh pleasantly. 

Arthur’s hands leave your hips and go to the front of your jeans, unbuttoning them. He puts one hand back on your hip, planting you to the tree. His other hand goes under your fabric and into your slit, toying with you. Your hips thrust out slightly, giving him a better angle as you gasp. He’s taken you by surprise. None of the men you slept with before bothered with foreplay like this. He circles your clit slowly but firmly as his lips and tongue brush your neck. His fingers leave your clit and go to your entrance, pushing gently into it and making you groan. 

“Arthur,” you say breathily. His fingers begin to curl and push in and out of you. God, he’s already getting you close to breaking and you two have only begun. You gasp his name again, your shaking fingers going back to his pants. You unbutton his and grab his length, making him growl against your neck. His lips come back to yours as you begin to pump his cock. He’s big in your grip and certainly long. As you trace a thumb over his sensitive tip, his hand suddenly pulls out of your slit. He pulls himself out of your grip just long enough to pull down your pants and then he plants himself against you again, even closer than before. 

“God, darlin’,” he groans against your lips. “Had no idea anyone could make me feel like this.” He grabs your leg and lifts it up to wrap around his hips. You thrust your hips out. His cock finds your slit and he guides it over your clit and then to your entrance. You wince a little as he pushes himself into you, but he feels good. His length spreads your walls and then he’s buried to the hilt into you. You kiss him hard again, your legs trembling. One of his hands leaves your back and he fondles your breast through your shirt.

“God,” you say, tipping your head back, giving him the opportunity to kiss the front of your neck, which he does. “Almost… a shame…” you say as he begins thrusting up and down into you, “we can’t… be… completely naked.” You begin panting with his thrusts. He chuckles at your words. 

“Surprised you even wanna see that much of me,” he says. You look down at his chest and then further down to see him pushing himself in and out of you. 

“I wanna see it all,” you say, your hands brushing through his chest hair again. However, both of you know that neither of you can get fully exposed. Not out here. Not when you’re already risking getting caught by some stranger. 

“Trust me, I wanna see you too,” he says, squeezing your breast again through your shirt. His hand glides back down to your slit and begins brushing your clit again as his length continues pumping into you. He angles your hips closer to his and goes even deeper, rubbing your spot. You groan again as he continues touching you in all the right places. Something begins to build up quite quickly in your hips, a kind of hot bubble. 

“Oh God, I’m gonna… I’m gonna... “ you whimper. He smiles against your neck and stimulates you again and again, inflating the bubble further. Without warning, the bubble grows and then bursts, spreading a hot sensation throughout your entire body, making your hands latch onto his back and your toes curl in your shoes. 

No man has ever made you orgasm before. They’ve all been too busy chasing their own release to care about yours. You’ve had to take care of yourself each time in your past. One time, you slept with a guy and he tried making you feel bad for touching yourself right after having sex with him. This experience with Arthur tops them all. You groan his name as you begin to come down from your high. 

Arthur chuckles and then he begins pumping even harder into you. You lean over to him and kiss the pulse point on his neck. Your hands wind up into his hair and you give his locks a slight tug. His hands grip you harder and then he gives one big pump and you feel him lose himself inside of you. Once he’s done spilling his seed into your core, he gives two more small thrusts and then slowly pulls out, lowering your leg slowly. 

He looks at you and his cheeks are pink. You kiss him softly on the lips and then you help him tuck himself back into his jeans. He rebuttons your jeans for you and then he closes his shirt. You smile up at him, fanning yourself with your hand. 

“Well, darlin’, is there a place I can call on you again?” he asks. “I’d like to… well, do more with ya than just that.” He blushes. God, he’s cute. 

“You better see me again after what you just did to me,” you smile and tell him where you’re staying for now. He adjusts his hat on his head and then leans forward and kisses you again. 

“I look forward to seein’ you again, miss.”


	30. The bath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Long story short, I was thinking of Arthur will bathing lol. Can you please write a bath sex scene of him and reader?

Warnings: do I need to put this here? Fine. Obvious smut ahead! 

It’s been too long since you and Arthur have been out of camp, too long since you’ve had true privacy and a chance for any real intimacy. Although you’ve been together for quite some time, most of the times you’ve had the chance to have sex have been rushed and too quiet since they usually happen in your shared cot. Occasionally, you and Arthur will be out somewhere and have the chance to do it properly. Those are always the best and result in you and him locked away in a hotel room or your tent for hours on end, making love over and over again. 

Sometimes you have to drag Arthur out of camp in order to have sex. It’s not so much for you, it’s for him. He needs the release. He’s been running around so much, not taking enough time for himself, he just needs a break. Those events are always some of the most intimate between you two. He needs to feel how much you love him, feel your skin, hear you gasp his name. He needs to hear how he turns you on, knowing his hard work results in something good. 

This time is different. You and Arthur were sent out on a job together for once. Nothing big or likely to end in a big shootout, but it was far away, which meant you and Arthur would have a reason to be gone from camp more than a day or two. You volunteered to go with him when you heard Dutch say the job would need a second person, so off the two of you went. 

You rode with Arthur from Clemens Point to Strawberry in order to get a tip off about a stage coming up from Blackwater from the postal worker, a guy named Hector. Of course, by the time you arrived in town, the post office was closed. Arthur sighed in defeat and took you to the hotel to get a room. He also paid for a bath, but you had one last night in Rhodes, so you didn’t intend to join him. However, you can see in his face as you break apart from one another how much he needs a release. He’s been working so hard again, pushing himself more than he needs to. 

You let Arthur get himself situated in the bathroom, giving him the chance to get into the hot water. You listen just outside of the door for the audible signs that he’s settled. Once he is, you knock on the door and put on an exaggerated accent. 

“Need some help in there?” you say. Through the door you can hear him chuckle softly, since he knows it’s you. 

“Sure, sounds good.” 

Before turning the door handle to go in, you unbutton your blouse just to show the tops of your breasts. When you open the door, he grins widely, his eyes soft and relaxed from the hot water. He looks so content sitting in the tub. You don’t bother to hide where you’re looking at him. Unfortunately a large cluster of bubbles blocks your target, so you have no idea what condition he’s in. His eyes unashamedly stare at your breasts as you kneel down next to him. 

You start massaging his shoulder. He lets out a relieved groan. You work out the knots that have been developing in his shoulders and neck. Damn, he’s got a lot of them. After a few minutes, your hand slips into the water to grab the scrub cloth floating in the suds. You wash down his arms and then he lifts his legs for you to clean. You kiss his head, giving him a full view of your breasts. 

“This was nice, darlin’,” he says, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. 

“I’ve only just started, Mr. Morgan,” you say, slipping your hand out of the water and dropping the cloth. Your hands go up to your blouse and unbutton it the rest of the way, slipping it off. He watches you lift up your chemise and throw it to the corner of the room. Your hand slips back into the water and you angle your body so he has a full view of your chest. You reach into the suds, pretending to rub his stomach and then glide down to between his legs. He’s already erect and you rub his shaft, making it even harder. 

“God, you feel so good, darlin’,” he groans, his hand reaching up to stroke one of your breasts. He fiddles with your nipple, licking his lips. His hips buck a little as you begin to pump him with your hand. You begin to rub him harder but slower, trying to work him up. You can tell he’s close when he closes his eyes and bites his lower lip. That’s when you remove your hand and unbutton your jeans. You stand up and slip out of them, giving him a full view of your nakedness. It’s something he’s seen many times, but you can tell by the way his eyes go hungry that he’ll never get tired of it.

You climb into the tub and then kneel down, your thighs spreading around his legs. Your hips aren’t close enough to his to allow him to penetrate you. Your hands find his shoulders and his your breasts. He leans over and kisses you, his hands winding behind you in order to pull you close to him. 

“I need you, darlin’,” he groans into your mouth. 

“I know,” you say. “Let me take care of you, Arthur.” 

You slide your hips forward, allowing his cock to slip into your folds. He groans as he enters you and his hands grip you harder. He begins kissing you harder and faster; he starts bucking into you. Before long, his lips move to your neck and he starts grunting as he thrusts harder and faster. You’re pretty sure you hear your name muttered as he works. You start pumping your hips against him, working up the friction to build up his release. God, he needs it. 

Within seconds, Arthur pumps one last and hard time, his cock exploding within you. He grunts again as his spend floods into you. You pant, your chin resting on his shoulder. You’d come close to your own climax, but this isn’t about you. You did this for him. It is the first time his hand hasn’t slipped into your slit to play with you and send you tipping over the edge. You’ll take care of yourself when this is all said and done. 

“Thank you, darlin’,” he says, settling against the back of the tub again. You smile and just kiss him in response. Just as you start sitting up, preparing to get out of the tub, he grabs your hips. 

“Oh I ain’t done with you yet,” he growls. Before you can respond, he angles your bodies so that you’re the one whose back is settled against the tub and he’s hovering above you. He gives you a dark smile and then grabs your legs, pulling them up to dangle on the sides of the tub. At this point, most of the bubbles are gone so he stares at your exposed slit with little hindrance. His cheeks are flushed and his hands slip from your knees to your folds. With one hand, he spreads them, completely exposing your clit and nub. With the other, he glides his fingertips over them. If it wasn’t for the water, he’d feel exactly how wet he makes you. But with the heat of the water and his fingers, it doesn’t take long for you to begin fucking his hand.

You begin writhing under him, groaning, gasping, hissing his name. A finger slides into your center, followed by another. His thumb remains on your clit, sometimes wandering to flick your nub. He knows exactly how to tease you. His fingers pump in and out of you slowly at first, but with the encouragement of your groans, he goes faster. Within moments, he’s got you pounding into his hand. 

That familiar bubble begins inflating in your stomach, threatening to release on his hands. “Oh fuck, Arthur,” you gasp. “I… I’m gonna…. I’m gonna…” 

“You make the prettiest sounds, darlin’,” he says softly and hoarsely. The hand that has been holding you open lets you go so that he can use it to focus on your nub and clit while his fingers continue pumping in and out of you. It’s too much and the bubble quickly inflates to bursting point, causing you to yelp loudly, your hands gripping the edge of the tub. He doesn’t let you stop, though. He stimulates you again and again, rubbing harder and faster. He does so until you scream his name, feeling as though your soul has left your body and you’ve turned to jelly. 

His hands finally stop working just when you think you can’t go anymore. Your eyes crack open, a tear sliding down your cheek. He’s grinning and blushing. “You’re alright, girl,” he says in a low voice. He leans forward and places a soft kiss to your lips, his hands pulling your legs together since you’ve lost the ability to move. He switches places with you again so you can rest on his chest. Your hand comes up to wind into his drying chest hair as his hand draws patterns into your shoulder. 

“Thank you, Arthur,” you say, realizing how much you’ve needed that release too. He kisses your head. 

“I love you, Y/N,” he says.


	31. Please don't lie to me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> User asked: "please don’t lie to me." Reader reassuring Arthur's insecurities about her love to him.

You swat away the flies for what feels like the thousandth time today. There’s very little about Shady Belle you like, and the flies are one of them. It’s fiercely hot today, and the muggy air doesn’t help. You aren’t the only one hiding away in the shade in camp, but luckily there’s plenty of that here. 

You look down the trail yet again, wondering where Arthur is. He left a day ago to take care of some business in Saint Denis. Or that’s what he claimed anyways. You know different though, you’d seen the letter from Mary. It made you unbelievably mad that she’d write to him again, and madder yet that he went to see her without telling you. 

You’ve been with the outlaw for the past few months. When she wrote to him in Horseshoe Overlook, Arthur took you with him to meet her just in case. You knew it was just so he could reassure that nothing was going on between them, and you were grateful. You thought that’d be the end of it, that she’d get the message and write him off for good. So when you found her second letter crumpled under your shared bed, your blood boiled. 

You fully intended to give him a piece of your mind when he returned. You don’t know why the hell he was hiding his meeting with her from you. Maybe because he knew what you expected, or that it’d be too complicated to explain it to you. Worse yet was the nagging suspicion that he still loved her, that he was hoping she’d offer him another chance at a relationship. You don’t know what it is about her that he can’t let go of, you certainly didn’t like her when you met her. All she did was trash talk him and then add just enough of “I love you” and “It wasn’t because I didn’t love you” to manipulate him. Sure, she was pretty, you’d give her that, but she sure had an ugly habit of hurting him. 

You swat away the flies again, growing increasingly irritated. Just then, you hear a horse coming down the trail. Looking, you spot Arthur. He glances at you sheepishly and dismounts. Instead of walking directly over to you like he normally would, he heads straight inside the manor and up into your shared room. You follow him, of course. As soon as you get into the room, you close the door and turn to him, fully intending to start screaming at him. When you see him though, your voice dies. 

He’s sitting on the bed, his head hung low and his face defeated. His shoulders are curled slightly forward as though there’s too much weight on them. You certainly expected him to come home and not want to talk about what happened with Mary, but this was the last thing you expected. 

“What happened?” you ask, clasping your hands in front of you. 

He looks up, his eyes clearing for a minute. It’s obvious he’s trying to hide what he did. “N-nothin’, darlin’. Just tired is all.” 

You sigh and sit down next to him. “I know, Arthur. About Mary. You went to see her again, didn’t you?” 

It’s his turn to sigh. “You saw the letter.” You nod, knowing he’s not asking. He hangs his head down again. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I shouldn’t have done it. I… I don’t know what I was expectin’, but I got exactly what should have been predicted.” 

You sit down next to him, making sure not to touch him. You want to hear what he has to say first before comforting him. 

“Tell me about it,” you say. You want to test him now. If he decides to brush you off, then you’ll start yelling. Instead, he sighs again. 

“Like I said, I don’t know what I was expectin’. If you read the letter, you’d already know she didn’t exactly say what she wanted to see me for. Anyways, I went. Turns out all she wanted was for me to help her with her god awful daddy. Being the fool I am, I did. Goddamn it, I did. He tried selling her mother’s brooch and I chased down the buyer in order to get it back. After that, she… convinced me to go see a show with her. Goddamn it, I did that too. Like I said, I don’t know what I expected.”

You bite your lip and then look at him, keeping a level voice. “She constantly reminded you of how things were between you a long time ago, didn’t she?” 

He nodded, his head still hung. “Yeah. Kept sayin’ she should’ve turned me in a long time ago too. Reminded me of all the bad things I done. I ain’t nothin’ more than a fighter, a robber. A killer. Just… a bad man.” 

You slip your hand into his. “No, that’s not true.” 

He turns to you, his blue eyes searching yours. "Please don’t lie to me,” he begs. “That’s all I am. All I ever done.” 

It breaks your heart to hear how much he hates himself, how much he regrets his past. You cup his cheek, rubbing your thumb along the scar on his chin. “Okay. Yes, you’ve done those things, Arthur. You’ve robbed, you’ve fought. You’ve killed. But try to remember the good things you’ve done too. The world isn’t black and white, made of saints and killers. We aren’t black and white either. How very dull this life would be if it was. Arthur, there’s a good man inside of you. I know there is because I’ve seen him. You’ve helped so many people along the way. I’m one of them. If it weren’t for you, I’d have died a long time ago.”

His hand squeezes around yours as he listens. “But I’ve killed so many, Y/N. More than I saved.” 

“How can you be completely sure about that?” you challenge. How do you know that some of the people you killed didn’t have dark spots of their own? Hell, any one of them people could have tortured their wives or hit their kids. Overworked their workers or done any number of unforgivable things. The way I see it, it’s very possible you saved a number of lives by taking one.”

“That ain’t always true though, Y/N. I know I killed good people and over a whole lot of dumb reasons.” 

“I know that too, Arthur. But think about this: if you were truly a bad man, would you feel so horrible about doing the things you did? I knew some truly bad people before I joined the gang. Never once did any of them regret what they did or who they hurt. They found ways to justify their actions. But you… you hold remorse, that regret. That makes you a good man who’s done bad things. We’re all guilty of that, Arthur.” 

He’s still staring hard at you. He sighs again. “I don’t deserve you, Y/N. Especially not after what I just done. I should never have gone to see her.” 

“No, you shouldn’t have. But I’d rather have you than not have you at all. And unlike her, Mr. Morgan, I won’t ever ask you to change.” 

You lean over and kiss him before gently pushing him down onto the bed. There, you show him exactly what he’d be missing if he chose Mary over you. You make absolutely sure he’ll never forget the things you do to him right now and the way you make him feel.


	32. "I won't stop until I hear you scream."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> User asked: "I won’t stop until I hear you scream.” give me more smut with low honor Arthur? Angst maybe?

Warnings: obvious smut, do I need to add this? 

You ride along in the train next to Arthur, feeling stiff and slightly awkward. You had an argument with the outlaw recently. It was about Mary. Although you’ve been running with the gang about five years, you only hooked up with Arthur right before the Blackwater mess. You knew about Mary of course, but Arthur made no notion at all in the past five years that he was still interested in her. That was until a few days ago in Horseshoe Overlook when he got that damned letter from her. 

You read the letter of course. Arthur made no attempts in hiding it and he’d run off so quickly shortly after receiving it that you had no doubt he was going off to see her. When he got back, you immediately pounced on him, angry, bitter and stung that he was still chasing after her when he had you. As could have been predicted, he’d gotten nasty right back, telling you to stay out of his past business and reassuring you that nothing happened between them. Although Arthur was very rough on the edges and often rash, you knew deep down he’d never do anything to prove he was disloyal to the gang or to you either. It was extremely obvious to everyone that he prided himself on being your man, in owning you.

Arthur sits beside you on the train, swaying back and forth with you. “So you still ain’t talkin’, hmm?” he said sharply. He’d taken you out to Big Valley to try and sooth your nerves, and while the thick forests and swift streams had done you good, you’re still stung about that whole Mary business. 

“You didn’t even tell her you were seeing someone else,” you say. 

You can practically hear him roll his eyes. “It never came up, darlin’. Trust me, the moment she would have mentioned us being together, either in the past or the future, I would have told her exactly how things are. That I’m involved with you and will be for a long time. If you allow me to, that is.” 

You know his patience with you is running short. He always did have a small fuse. You sigh, knowing your frustration needs to end with him. Still, you’re wound up so tight from that Blackwater business and then fleeing into Colter and nearly freezing to death. You and Arthur have been so busy, there has been little opportunity for any intimacy between you. Then Arthur got that letter from Mary and your chances of being open to him became even smaller. You and Arthur have made love only once and that was just before the Blackwater massacre. 

To say having sex with Arthur has been the best sex of your life is an understatement. He’d been forceful and rough, but you liked it. He’d dominated you in a way no man in your past ever has and you loved every second of it. He’d tried being physical with you out in Big Valley, but you’d rejected him. Now you’re starting to wonder if your frayed nerves can be soothed by him helping you relax. 

When you get back to Horseshoe Overlook, it’s nearly dusk. You and Arthur grab some stew and join the others around the fire for a bit. When you think it’s late enough that people won’t find it suspicious why you’re going to bed so early, you tell Arthur you’re heading off to your shared tent. You lean in and whisper in his ear to come join you in a few moments. When you’re seated on the cot, you strip off your boots and then Arthur comes into the tent quickly, closing the tent flaps. He turns to you, a hungry look in his eye. 

You stand up, your face telling him to hold off for one second longer. “Arthur, we’ve hit our first rough patch. I don’t want this to become a pattern between us, but I was thinking maybe a little bit of… intimacy could do us some good.” 

He licks his lips and his eyes grow hungrier. “I agree, darlin’.” 

You smile and reach up to start unbuttoning your blouse when he rushes over and throws you down onto the cot. As soon as you’re down, his hands quickly undo your shirt, a few buttons ripping in your haste. You don’t mind, you can fix them tomorrow. As soon as he’s got your shirt open, he untucks your chemise from your jeans. Then his eyes grow even hungrier and he reaches into his satchel, pulling out some rope. 

“I’m gonna own you, darlin’,” he growls. He doesn’t move until you nod, your breath quickening. He ties your wrists together and then pins your hands above your head, tying them to a hook in one of the crates acting as the headrest to your cot. He didn’t do this your first time, but you kind of like it. Being completely vulnerable to him, giving him all control. 

He stands up just long enough to remove his boots, his satchel, hat and then finally his shirt. He doesn’t remove his pants, though you can see him pushing through his pants. He leans back onto the bed, hovering over you and then he grabs the hem of your chemise and slides it up, rumpling it under your chin. He studies your naked breasts for a moment, sending shivers through your spine. Finally, gratefully, he caresses them with his fingers. He’s gentle, delicate. He traces them so softly, you can barely feel him. God, he knows how to tease you. He rubs your nipples with his thumbs, flicking them and making them stand out even more. 

One of his hands strokes slowly down your stomach and undoes your jeans. When they’re open, he slides a hand in and finds your slit. You’re soaked already by this point and he grins, drawing a quick line up your slit, just fast and hard enough to make your hips lift just so. 

“You want this?” he asks, suddenly grabbing his bulging package. You’re gasping under him and nod.

“Please, Arthur,” you say breathily.

He grins and then stands up, ripping your pants off all the way. Then he removes his own. Your knees have gone up, you haven’t really been paying attention. He puts his hands on your knees and spreads them, making it so you’re completely exposed to him. He stares unashamedly at your wet opening. 

“I’m gonna have fun with you,” he says as you tremble, your hands still tied up. His hands go to his erection and he pumps a few times, making it even harder, the head darker. Then he reaches over and slips a finger into your dripping folds, making you gasp. Finally, oh finally, he’s touching you where you need it, but it’s not enough.

“Oh Arthur,” you say, your eyes closing as he tickles your nub and clit. Your hips begin to pump up and down in sync with the movement of his hand. His fingers drift down to caress your opening where you want him most. “Please,” you groan. 

He chuckles darkly and his hand moves back up to your clit, stroking it more. Then he slides his whole body over you and without warning pushes his cock into your core. You gasp again and wince. You hadn’t been quite prepared for him, but he feels so good you don’t care. You were built for one another. His length fits you perfectly, and it’s curved in such a way that he can brush your spot with ease. He begins pounding into you, pushing against it now. You move your hips with his, the friction mounting between you.

His hands plant onto your knees and then he pushes them up and farther apart, allowing him to sink even further into you. He kisses you as you gasp and moan.

“You close?” he asks huskily. 

“Mm, you’re close, big guy.” 

He smiles against your lips and he continues to pound himself into you, his thrusts becoming less rhythmic. Your walls clench around him hard and that ends him. He pumps a few hard times into you, and then one last hard time, his cock spurting into you. 

As he grows soft, he pulls himself out of you, making you twitch and whine. He’s not going to leave you like this, is he? You’d come close, but now your own release is ebbing away. 

“Arthur,” you pout and open your eyes. 

“Oh don’t worry, darlin’. I’m gonna take care of you.” 

Your knees are still spread apart and he stares down at your opening, the leaking juices. He reaches both hands into your slit, one spreading your folds apart to expose your clit to the cool air. With the other, he rubs and pushes it. His hand glides up and down your soaked slit and you begin to pant and groan. Your hips sway up and down in time with his hand. God, he feels incredible. 

His hand begins to push harder and he glides faster until he stops on your clit. He begins circling it, hard and fast. It’s too much! The sensations rip through you, fogging your brain. “Ar… Arthur, I’m gonna… I’m gonna… I’m gonna…!”

His hand holding you open lets you go and squeezes your nub while he continues circling and pressing your clit. That’s it, you’re tipping over the edge. He doesn’t stop as you tip your head back and grab onto the rope holding your hands, your toes curling and your hips digging into the bed. It’s too much and you start trying to pull away, but he just moves with you and you’re hindered by the rope. 

“Arthur! Please, I can’t… I can’t anymore!” you whimper as another orgasm rips through you. If you keep going like this, you’re going to explode. 

"I won’t stop until I hear you scream,” he says darkly and his hands continue to work. His fingers squeeze your nub as his other tickles your mound. Then, he removes one hand, opening you again and his hand on your clit begins sliding up and down extremely fast, pushing and rubbing your nub and your clit at the same time. You didn’t know you could orgasm a third time so soon, but you are and it overwhelms you. You’ve been trying to keep quiet during the fucking since you’re in camp, but Arthur clearly wants them all to know exactly what he’s doing to you. 

“Please, Arthur,” you cry, “I… I’m gonna… I can’t…” 

“Just let it go, love. The sooner you do, the sooner this will all be over.” He continues running his hand up and down your slit with speed, but he pushes even harder. Your hips suddenly, involuntarily jerk up and you’re completely overtaken by your orgasm. It forces your head back and your mouth to open, your voice coming out in a sharp, hard release. Your entire body shakes and he stimulates you again and again. Without warning, you feel moisture squeeze out of you and onto his hands. You’ve never done that before. Satisfied, Arthur’s hand slows down and then stops. 

“Yeah, you’re alright girl,” he says deeply, grinning mischievously at you as you pant on the cot. 

“Damn it, Arthur,” you say, completely exhausted. “Next time you’re trying to do something that requires you to be silent, I’m going to come and make it impossible for you to remain so.” 

“That better be a promise,” he says with a grin. He leans down and kisses you.


	33. The earthquake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know most of my writing recently has been inspired by requests and such, but I wanted to write a oneshot with Arthur and the reader who has survived an earthquake (not a super dangerous one, but big enough to be scary). And no, this is totally not self indulgent at all or a way for me to process things since my state just had an earthquake last week (Note high sarcasm). Anyways, enjoy my crap.

The trembling in the ground has stopped, though the shaking of your hands hasn’t. God, terrifying is hardly the word you’d use to describe what had happened not more than fifteen minutes before. 

You’d been sitting on your couch, reading a book while you ate breakfast before heading into work. Without warning, a loud rumbling filled your house quickly followed by an intense shaking. You watched in horror as your bookshelf started to sway back and forth, dumping its contents onto the floor. You heard over the roar things crashing to the ground as the lights flicked off. An involuntary scream pushed out of your mouth. The shaking went on for nearly a minute and then as quickly as it began, it stopped. It had been so sudden you hadn’t been able to move. 

A minute after the shaking stopped, you pulled out your phone and illuminated the darkness. Your mind is reeling and only one word comes to mind as to what just happened: earthquake. A big one. You learned about them in school, of course, but never actually experienced one firsthand like this. One thing you know for sure is that now you must assess the damage to your home. 

With trembling legs, you walked through your house with a shaking light from your phone. The light fixture on your kitchen ceiling sways ominously and just as you reach up to grab it and stop it, your house shakes again. Not as hard as the first time, but enough to send you diving under the table. The shaking stops abruptly. 

That’s where you are now, clutching the table legs for dear life. You unlock your phone. No internet, no service. Not a surprise really. Slowly, you ease your way out from under the table. A text buzzes your phone, making you jump and you drop it. Still shaken, you pick it up. It’s from a coworker, asking you if you felt the quake. You reply yes and that you’re okay. 

You start walking slowly around your house, checking walls and ceilings for cracks or signs of damage. Just as you reach your room, your phone lets out a piercing ring, making you jump again. It’s the emergency alarm. You’ve only heard it once before months ago during an amber alert. A bar shows up on your phone announcing a 5.7 earthquake only 2 and a half miles outside your neighborhood. You put your hand to your mouth when a dull rumble comes. Within seconds, your standing in your door frame as your house shakes again. Tears leak from the corner of your eyes and you sink to the ground as the shaking stops. 

You’re terrified and incredibly alone. You don’t know the first thing about earthquakes, not from this standpoint. Your mind is still racing, unable to put logical thoughts together. You unlock your phone and call the only person you can think of: your boyfriend Arthur. He lives fifteen miles away on his ranch, but surely he felt it. 

The phone rings, static hissing through your ear as you continue to cry and bite your nails, waiting for the next aftershock. Finally the ringing stops and is replaced by his voice. 

“God damn, I only been tryin’ to reach you the past thirty minutes!” he says into the phone. 

“Arthur, help me!” you sob into the phone. “I’m scared!” 

“You hurt, honey?”

“No, no but I’m scared! The alert on my phone says for residents here to stay indoors or get outside, but not to travel. Arthur, I don’t know what to do!” 

“Okay, okay baby. I ain’t gonna let you go, but I’m comin’ over to your place.”

“But the thing said-”

“I don’t care what it said, I’m comin’ over! You’re more important to me.”

You hear over the phone the sound of him starting his truck. He continues talking to you, his voice soothing in this horrifying moment. Another aftershock comes rumbling through, the smallest one so far but enough to make you sob again. 

“It’s okay, darlin’. I’m comin’. Don’t-”

The phone goes silent. Damn! Your phone must have dropped him. You try calling him again but your phone can’t connect. You clutch it to your chest, still cramped in the door frame.

Thirty minutes go by with only two small aftershocks. Arthur should be here by now, but you figure some of the roads around your place are probably blocked off or closed and he’s being forced to stop on occasion by emergency vehicles. 

Rumbling comes through your house again and you grip the door frame hard until you realize it’s just someone knocking on the door. Thank God, you think. You get up, your legs cramped, and rush to the door. As soon as it’s opened, Arthur walks in and pulls you into a tight hug. 

“It’s okay, darlin’,” he says as you bury your head into his chest, still shaking. “How many shocks there been?” 

“A few,” you say, not having kept count. 

He nods and then leads you to the kitchen. There, he sits you down by the counter close to the table in case you need to dive under it. The floor is freezing cold, a result of it being March and there’s still no power. He quickly disappears and comes back holding your big comforter from your bed. He wraps it around you and then sits down, pulling you close. 

“How bad was it at your house?” you ask after a few moments. Your voice is getting stronger again. 

“Honestly, it weren’t horrible. Some shaking, but nothing moved. You know when you’re close to train tracks and a train rushes by? It felt like that.” 

You nod and tell him the things you saw and felt. “Yeah, that ain’t good,” he says. “Well, I’m here with ya now, darlin’. Ain’t goin’ nowhere.” 

For the next three hours, you and he remain on the kitchen floor, occasionally sliding under the table during one of the aftershocks. Neither of you dare to open the fridge since you’ve no idea when power will come back on and want to keep your food cold. Arthur offers to grab some bread from your pantry to eat, but you’re not hungry. You stay huddled close to him, kept warm by his body and the comforter. 

You check your phone constantly, reading through the newsfeed for updates on the quake. Of course, there isn’t much except that the big one occurred and now officials know the exact location of the epicenter. Your house is right on the south border of it. 

Just as you’re nearing the fourth hour since the quake, the lights suddenly flick on and the furnace comes to life. 

“I’m surprised it didn’t take longer,” Arthur says, looking around. You get up with him, still slightly shaken. He says you need to check on the house so you both wander the few rooms, looking for damage. There’s some broken knick knacks in your room, but the walls and ceiling show no sign of damage. You head outside with him to check the exterior, finding only a few minor cracks up the brick of your home. 

When you head back inside, Arthur sighs heavily. “We gotta check the basement,” he says. 

“Why?” you say. The basement is the most dangerous place for you to be if there’s another quake. 

He explains that you need to check the foundation of the house, the furnace and water heater. Swallowing your fear, you go down the stairs with him and look around. Your furnace and water heater are surprisingly intact, and the only damage is a long, thin crack going along the longest wall of your basement, but it’s not wide or deep enough to prove worrisome. 

“Man your house is built strong,” Arthur says. 

“It was built in the fifties from cinderblock and concrete, Arthur. It might as well be a bomb shelter.” You quickly head up the stairs, not wanting to be down here anymore. 

Over the course of the day, Arthur stays close to you. There’s dozens of aftershocks, even one registering a 4.6 that makes your furniture rattle. You dove under the table again during that one and Arthur stuck to your side, but the power didn’t go off again. 

By nightfall, you’re a mess. Your adrenaline hasn’t stopped at all today and Arthur’s on edge too. He decides to stay with you for the night since a notification came in saying all roads in your neighborhood are to be kept clear of traffic. Once it’s late enough to go to sleep, Arthur grabs your favorite blanket and drapes it over you. 

After removing his shirt and changing into lounge pants he keeps here for when he spends the night, he climbs into bed with you. Immediately, you crawl over to him and nuzzle into him, still scared of the aftershocks. He brushes your hair, his fingertips grazing your shoulder. His heart pumps loud and hard in your ear. He’s just as worried as you. Somehow, wrapped in one another’s embrace, you fall asleep. Just as you’re drifting off, Arthur mutters.

“Thank God you’re okay. If I lost you, I’d be more broken than I ever been. I love you, Y/N.”


	34. Cornwall's Wife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Bonjour ! How are you doing ? I've read you're depressed, I've been through it too, feel free to talk to me whenever you want ! Since you're my favourite writer, I've got an imagine request for you ! Imagine Leviticus Cornwall's young wife has been kidnapped by the gang. She's a classy british girl and she is very pretty, but she is not arrogant and is friendly with the gang. Arthur and her fall in love but Dutch want a ransom and doesn't want her to stay. You can choose the ending.Thank you :D

(Author’s note: Arthur doesn’t have TB in this scenario)   
Word count: ~10,500

You look over at your husband across the breakfast table with disgust. Although it’s a rather rare occurrence for him to join you for your morning meal because his schedule is so full, you’d rather he never did. Of course, you’ve no say in any of this. You’re just his wife, his property. He’s made it clear more than once that he’s no interest in your feelings, your hopes and dreams. 

You’d grown up in London. Your father was and still is the owner of a prominent bank. When you were in your late teens, your father and mother decided to move to New York and start a new bank there. Your father saw the ocean of opportunity there. New York was a fast-growing city, and although it didn’t have the wealthy history of London, it had new sources of money that had yet to be tapped. Your father raved about the correctness people used when they called the area New England, for it was like it in many ways but so many of the people were “new money” and your father loved it. Within only a few years, your father’s new bank in New York took off so well he even built another one in Boston, which was where he decided to permanently locate you, your mother and younger brother. 

When you first arrived in America, you knew very little about the country and certainly nothing about the American West. The little you had learned about the country was mostly in regards to the Revolutionary War a little over a hundred years ago. How the Americans had basically won against the British with little more than varmint rifles and their unique strategies of outsmarting their rivals. You learned in school that thirty years ago America suffered a Civil War, something to do with slavery. You had no idea though that many of the states had wanted to become their own separate country. 

Your mother was aware that your knowledge of America was flimsy at best. Hers was the same way, so she encouraged you and your brother to go and learn about the history of America in order to appear knowledgeable about it despite being a foreigner. However, she wouldn’t let you study at Boston’s library. She insisted that, coming from a wealthy family, you should read from the University’s library and study with their tutors. Only common folk went to the public library, although you thought it would be a wonderful source to observe American culture firsthand. Per her wishes, you went to the University’s library with your brother, but you didn’t like it much. You felt that its books would have been no better than the library’s and the tutors were so stuck up and over-educated, it made you miserable. 

In London, you were constantly surrounded by the wealthier folk since they were the only ones your parents would let you be around as a child. When you moved to Boston though, you were old enough to disobey them and mix in with a different crowd. You found yourself enjoying the company of the middle class. They were not concerned with manners and etiquette. Many of them had a sense of humor you enjoyed and because they were not so caught up in their wealth, they had a sense of community the wealthier folk lacked. They cared about each other. That was something so unique to you that you absolutely loved. It made you openly disobey your mother and you went to learn about America in Boston’s library. They offered tutors as well, and they were friendlier and had a richer knowledge in basic history, not just the history in politics and the prestigious like the University’s tutors had. Some of the tutors had even been involved in some of the events you studied up on. One was a former doctor during the Civil War and he told you some awful yet intriguing stories about it. 

As you learned about America, you found yourself divulging into the American West. Of course you’d heard and learned a little about it as a child, the hot deserts with their cacti and the cowboys. However, as you learned about it now, you realized your previous knowledge had been minimal. You knew nothing of the true wildness of it. The outlaws, the sheriffs that were just as tainted as the criminals they sought. The tough ranchers who fought wars against wolves. The heartbreaking histories of the Natives that had lived and been treated like less than vermin by the settlers. The Mexicans who came and brought pieces of their own rich culture. It fascinated you. You’ve known nothing but civility and the West sounded like the opposite of it. Of course, you read a little about the wild gangs that flourished there and had no interest in experiencing them firsthand or even from a distance. 

Your husband wipes his mustache and beard with a napkin and stands up without looking at you. His servant Bradley comes forward, holding a book open for him to read. You know this book very well. It contains your husband’s daily schedules. You have one as well. You’re used to living by a tight schedule, having done it most of your life. Your husband studies it for a moment and then says something to Bradley. You don’t hear it, not that you care. Without a glance in your direction, your husband turns to leave when the butler, Mr. Blomsbury comes in. 

“Mr. Cornwall, the mayor of Saint Denis is on the phone for you.” 

“About time that wretch finally returns my calls,” Leviticus says. “I’ve been needing to discuss matters with him for far too long. He’s an idiot and I’m a fool for ever getting into business with him.” 

He leaves the room, followed by Blomsbury and Bradley. You sigh and finish your meal, your servant Marie comes forward to clean your plate. “Mrs. Cornwall, you have an appointment with your tailor in an hour. He is expecting you in the…” 

“Yes, Marie, I am aware of this,” you say kindly. “Please make sure the room is ready to receive him.” 

She curtsies and heads off. You dismiss the rest of the staff to do their other chores and head off to your own personal library to read a bit before the tailor arrives. You don’t want to go to this pointless party you’re being dressed for, but you’ve little choice in the matter. 

On your way to the library, you bump into Leviticus Cornwall. Your miserable husband. You apologize for bumping into him as you know it’s the last thing he will do. 

“Y/N, make sure you actually choose a flattering color to wear this time. That purple you wore to the last event washed you out. I had many people ask me if you were ill.” 

“You were the one who told me to wear purple, Leviticus. You wanted us to match, remember?” 

He ignores your remark. “Just pick something that actually looks good on you, Y/N.” He continues on down the hall to his study. 

You sigh. How you hate him. Being born with a silver spoon in hand, you thought your entire childhood you’d be able to afford the luxury of finding someone you loved to marry. In your early twenties, your father and mother took that opportunity completely out of your hands. All the other women your age they knew were already married and some were even mothers. Your father was at least generous enough to want to find you a husband who was wealthy enough to let you live comfortably the rest of your life. Soon after, Leviticus Cornwall became a client of your father’s. They talked much and your father found out that Leviticus was a widower. His wife had passed away some years ago from complications during her first childbirth. The baby hadn’t survived either. It was arranged shortly after your father met him that you two should at least become engaged. 

You were not happy when you found out. You’d recently met a young man at the library you were rather fond of. You knew your father would never accept him, he came from a middle class family. But he was your age, funny, attractive and very sweet. Just before you’d gotten the nerve to ask him out on a date, your father told you about your arrangements with Leviticus Cornwall. The man himself had been present when your father told you this, for Leviticus wanted to make sure you were at least pretty enough to be his fiance. When he saw you, he didn’t smile but he nodded approvingly. 

“She will do,” he said after circling you and assessing your body. “You didn’t tell me she was so young.”

“I have no control of her age, Mr. Cornwall,” your father replied. 

“No I suppose not,” Leviticus answered. “Still. You are lucky that I am a busy man and have no time nor patience to care for the opinions of others when it comes to my lifestyle. I hope she does not either, for some will think it inappropriate a man my age have a wife so young. A mistress, sure, but not a wife.” 

“Of course, Mr. Cornwall. But she will make a wonderful wife,” your mother assured him. “She’s smart, she went to the best girls’ school in London. She also has many skills, she learned to paint and sing from a young age. She’s also finely accustomed to riding a horse. Properly of course, not that uncivilized way some women choose to ride with a leg on either side.” 

Your mother was really selling you to him. Of course, you had learned how to do these things, but it didn’t mean you liked them. As far as riding side-saddle went, you detested it. There was little that was more painful than doing it that way, but of course you’d never ridden the way men did. 

After much discussion, mostly on the matters of your dowry, it was settled. You were to be married to this man whom you barely knew. Three months later, you became his wife, despite him still being mostly a stranger to you. He’d had so little availability during your engagement he rarely visited and when he did, all he talked of was the things he had to do, his businesses and the problems that came with them. How he was interested in buying stakes in certain companies or outright buying them altogether. 

When Leviticus became your husband, you moved with him down to Pennsylvania. He had the largest estate of any person you’d ever known. His mansion sat on over a hundred acres, some of them finely manicured but most used for livestock or farming. His stables themselves were huge and he even had an indoor riding arena, a rare thing to see. Leviticus bred horses on the side, although he did little of the business himself. 

You head off now to the parlor where you are meeting the tailor. After over an hour of measuring and discussing styles, you finally give the tailor the final order on your dress and head out of the room. Marie meets you in the hall and holds open your schedule. 

“Mrs. Cornwall, Mr. Cornwall has just received urgent news from New Hanover. His train traveling through Ambarino has just been robbed.” 

“Well, good for him,” you say, growing tired of hearing about nothing but your husband’s affairs. “I have other things to attend to.” 

“Actually, that’s just it, ma’am. Mr. Cornwall will be travelling later this evening to New Hanover in order to speak with the investigators. As he will be travelling, you are to accompany him.” 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Of course he wants you to go with him. It’s not because he loves you, hell you’re just another possession of his. You’ll be there strictly for appearances. Marie does not wait for you to respond.

“Your things are already being packed, Mrs. Cornwall. Be ready to leave by this afternoon.” Without another word, she leaves.

You’ve had enough of this. Over the past few weeks, you’ve caught yourself fantasizing about a simpler life, one without schedules and a loveless marriage. One that doesn’t mean you’re surrounded by money but by opportunity. People won’t tell you where to go, how to dress, walk or talk. One where you’d be allowed to just be you. All your life, you’ve been told how to act, how to be. But before you got married and were still studying in the public library, you had all those friends who your father called “common folk”. Although they had undeniably less money, they were happy. Happier than your parents, happier than your husband surely. They were free to go where they wanted and be who they were. You’ve never had that luxury. 

Not only that, you don’t want to go with Leviticus on another boring trip to investigate nonsense with his business. What does it matter if his train got robbed? The criminals likely only took a few thousand dollars and Leviticus had enough to buy a small country if he wanted. Still, you know that if he lets this slide, he’ll feel he’s made himself a target and a fool. As you know, he is all about appearances. You come to the decision to talk to him about you staying here.

You find Leviticus in his study, going over some papers. Bradley stands attentive before him as Leviticus murmurs things about his train being robbed. 

“Mr. Cornwall,” you say as you rarely address him by his first name. 

“Not now, Y/N, I have something more important to see to.” 

“Mr. Cornwall, I want to talk to you about tonight,” you say, sounding more bold than you feel. 

He throws down the papers and glares at you. “What? What could you possibly want? Did you not hear that I have just been robbed?”

You stare right back at him. “I heard, but I don’t know why you’re making such a big ordeal of it. They couldn’t have taken more than a few thousand dollars. Do you not take more than that on a daily basis from the people who work for you?” 

His eyes darken. “I will not be told how to run my business by my own damn wife. Bradley, get out.” 

Bradley bows and leaves, shutting the door behind him. Leviticus stomps up towards you, his teeth bared. You stand your ground. He simply puts his face inches from yours and breathes hard, clearly trying to intimidate you. After a moment, he takes a step back. 

“Now go get ready. I want to leave in an hour or two.”

“I am not coming with you, Leviticus. You can deal with things on your own. Hell, I’ll just be shut up in some damp and poor excuse for a manor anyways. It’s not like you need me there to impress a governor. You’re simply overseeing an investigation of your own affairs.” 

Without warning, Leviticus turns and slaps you hard. You flinch and cup your cheek. Of course, this wasn’t unexpected. He’s hit you several times before, but most of the time he’s been decent enough to put your bruises in places others won’t see. 

“I said you’re coming with me and that isn’t changing just because you don’t feel like it,” he hisses. 

You lower your hand and glare at him again. “No I’m not, Leviticus. It’s completely pointless for me to go with you. You can’t make me-” 

He slaps you again and this time you feel your lip burn. Pulling your hand away, you see a spot of blood on your finger. 

“Don’t make me hurt you,” he snarls. 

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” you say, your eyes watering from the stinging of your face. He raises his hand again but does not swing. 

“If you think what you feel now is pain, you’re in for a surprise, Y/N. Now go get ready. I won’t tell you again. I’ll drag you out to the carriage by your ears if you don’t come willingly.” 

You take his threat seriously. His servants will not hesitate to force you into his carriage, they’re just as frightened of him as you are. Everything in his life he rules over with an iron fist. His eyes flash as you stand there and you quickly dart out of the room, knowing that to stay means further abuse. 

When you arrive in your dressing room, Marie applies a powder to your face to hide the red welt rising on your face. She says nothing to comfort you though and then she helps you into a dress suitable for travelling in. When you’re done, you dismiss her, claiming you need some time alone. She curtsies and leaves, closing the door. 

You’re done with this. This life, this marriage. You want no part of it. Of course, your parents aren’t a help. They’re the ones who arranged this marriage for you in the first place. You’re going to escape though, and this trip is the perfect opportunity. You know there will be ample opportunities to escape, after all your staff aren’t that tough. They simply take care of you, not act as a guard. 

Quickly, you grab a bag and stuff several items of jewelry into it, knowing you can trade them for money. You won’t go east or north towards Boston or New York. When Leviticus discovers you’ve gone, he will search for you and those directions will be the first place he looks since they’re the only places you’ve been. You’ll head west. Maybe you’ll act as a house maid or something of the likes, except you’ve no workable skills. You’ll work out those details later. Right now you focus on your escape and how you’ll be able to afford living on your own. 

You head into your large closet and grab a small black box behind a rack of overcoats. In it is stored a few thousand dollars Leviticus always keeps in case of emergency. You swiftly empty it, stuffing the bills into your bag. Then you tuck the bag under the skirt of your dress. With a belt, you secure it around your waist where no one will notice its presence. 

A few moments later, Marie enters the room again. “Mrs. Cornwall, the coach is ready. Mr. Cornwall reminds you that you are obligated to accompany him.” 

You nod and grab your gloves, slipping them onto your arms and following her out. Once outside, you hold your head high and Stanley, your coachman, offers his hand to help you inside it. Once you’re settled, you wait a few minutes before Leviticus joins you. You ignore each other as the coach moves.

You’re taken to the train station where you ride inside Leviticus’s personal car and head down to Annesburg. There, Leviticus puts you on another coach but does not accompany you as he wants to discuss buying a stake in the Annesburg mine. You don’t care, of course. Soon his business won’t be any concern of yours. 

The coach leaves Annesburg and heads west in New Hanover. Stanley explains you’re to stay in a small manor near the border of West Elizabeth. The coach travels further away from Annesburg.

The sun is setting and the coach travels along long grassy plains. Deer dash away from the trail at the sight of your coach. The coach travels over some tracks and then comes to a halt. The driver explains the horses need to rest and feed. Stanley gets out of the coach in order to stretch his legs. You wait for a moment, knowing he’s going several yards away in order to smoke. The driver of the coach is not paying you any attention either as he fiddles with the feed sacks, attaching them over the horses noses. 

Now is your chance. You swiftly look around for anyone who might be watching, but no one’s around. Two men are playing dominoes on the train platform but they don’t even glance your way. A train rumbles up and then stops, preparing to take on passengers. As quickly as you can manage with your heavy gown, you dash out of the carriage and onto the train, not bothering to buy a ticket. Just as quickly, you settle into a seat on one of the finer cars, knowing that you look the part of someone who belongs there. You fidget with your hands, afraid someone spotted you. You keep a close eye on the driver of the coach and Stanley, who’s still smoking. Before either of them even start looking towards the carriage, the train’s whistle blows and begins to move. 

You breathe a sigh of relief as the station disappears behind you and you check again that your bag of stolen money and jewels is still attached to you. You’ll get off at the first station, knowing that a ticketmaster is likely to come around and see everyone aboard has paid. Almost on queue, he comes into your car and starts making his way around. When he gets to you, you slip a ring with a large ruby on it in order to bribe him. He nods and goes on his way. You realize you should have asked him that he’d never seen you on this train, but he’s gone at this point. Oh well, he likely won’t remember your face anyways. 

The train chugs north. You know by this point Stanley knows you’re gone. How could he not know? The coach had only stopped for a few moments. You’re sure at this point they must know you’re on the train. There was nothing else around that could whisk you away so quickly. Now you’re beginning to see the flaws of your plan. At least you have it in your favor that a train is much faster than a coach. 

A little over an hour goes by and the train begins to slow after coming out of a long, dark tunnel. It stops at an old military station, the name “Bacchus” written above a rickety door. Some men, dressed in army uniforms, stand on the platform. When the train stops, you see men begin moving some boxes and barrels off a flatcar towards the rear of the train. Now is the time to leave.

You head outside, glad that none of the other passengers questioned your movements. Once off the train, you travel south, following the road but staying off it in case the coach happens to come along this way. 

You’ve never been this far west before, but the country is beautiful. Tall, wispy aspens flutter their leaves in the gentle evening breeze. An elk lifts his proud head from a berry bush and stares at you, almost as though he knows he’s far more of a threat to you than you are to him. He goes back to browsing as the sun dips beyond the mountains. 

Now you’re faced with another predicament. You’ve never slept outside and you don’t know the first thing about how to start a fire or find shelter. However, in a cluster of trees just south of the road, you see flickering firelight. Approaching it, you see a wagon and near it, surrounding the fire, is a blond man, his wife and two children, a boy and a girl. You approach slowly and the man looks up. 

“Ah, hallo, gnädige Frau!” he says. You swallow. Of course, you took German when you were younger, but it’s been many years. 

“Guten Abend,” you respond. His smile is warm and his family looks at you kindly, though they have already noticed how out of place you look in your heavy dress, feathered hat and high heels. You ask them if you could use their fire for the evening and they agree brightly. 

You sit down, thanking them and the boy hands you a plate of Bratwursts and the girl offers you some German bread. You thank them again and eat, feeling quite hungry. As the sky grows darker, the family talks in their native tongue. You’ve forgotten most your German lessons, but still manage to pick up a few words. 

“Ich haben ein Fragen,” the woman says to you. You recognize the word Fragen: question. You nod in recognition. “Was machst du hier?” 

“What?” you ask, not understanding that line. 

She gestures your clothes and then the fire. She wants to know why you’re here. You’ve no idea how to translate your predicament into their language. The young girl tugs on your sleeve. 

“Ich kann etwas Englisch sprechen.” You nod.

“I am running away from my husband,” you say slowly enough that the girl can translate to her parents. “He is very rich but I am not happy with him.” 

“Bist du schon lange gelaufen? Bist du mit dem Boot hierher gekommen?” The girl looks at you.

“Have you been running long? Did you come here by boat?” 

You realize they must be confused by your accent. Although you’ve lived in America many years now, you still retain a decent amount of your British accent. 

“No, no I only just ran away. I came here on a train, but my stagecoach driver and servant will be looking for me and they know I took the train.” 

The parents nod, understanding now how you came to be at their fire. 

“You are welcome to stay with us tonight,” the girl translates for her mother. “We are headed for Valentine tomorrow and can drop you off there.” 

You thank them again and finish your meal. Not longer after, they show you a place under a canopy they’ve stretched over a spot of grass next to their wagon you can use. They’ve nothing to offer you except an old blanket. You take off only your shoes and hat and fall into an uncomfortable sleep. 

**********************  
In the morning, the family takes you to the small town of Valentine. There, you say your goodbyes and head into the general store where you trade in some jewels for money and buy some shirts and pairs of jeans. You’ve never worn pants before, but you figure the less you look like yourself, the easier you can hide. By this time surely, Stanley will have found a way to reach your husband and tell him of your disappearance. Leviticus may see you as nothing but property, but he will want you back, so you know he will begin a raging hunt. You desperately hope he never finds you as you hate to think what he’ll do to you if he does.

After buying clothes, provisions and a satchel to store things in, you head over to the stables and buy a tall cherry bay Thoroughbred named Willow. Only when the stablemaster comes out holding a heavy saddle do you realize another problem: you’ve never ridden with one leg on each side of the horse, only side saddle. Still, when you lead Willow out of the stables, you climb awkwardly into the stable and try your best to secure yourself in it, though it feels very foreign to you. You almost decide to buy a pistol from the gunsmith but realize that’s a foolish decision. You don’t know the first thing about guns and could very well end up shooting yourself. You decide it’s best to try and keep heading west, further from your home. 

As you head south and away from Valentine, only going at a walk since you’re unaccustomed to riding this way, Willow snorts and stomps her foot, coming to a stop. You try urging her to walk on, but she just snorts again. Looking on the ground, you see a rattlesnake on the path, coiled and rattling its tail at her. Willow suddenly rears up and throws you to the ground before darting off into the trees. The snake slithers off, but your shoulder hurts terribly from where it slammed into the ground. 

“You a’right, ma’am?” a voice asks. 

Looking behind you, you find the picture-perfect example of a cowboy sitting astride his horse. His dark gambler’s hat shades his eyes from the sun and his blue shirt is worn and dirt. He looks at you, his face tanned and dirty from days of being in the sun and the wild, his jaw stubbled with a short beard. You notice his blue eyes. 

“Yes, I’m alright,” you say, standing up and clutching your shoulder. “My horse was spooked by a snake.” 

“I saw,” he says, dismounting his horse. “You need help catchin’ her?” 

“Could you help?” you say, grateful he’s offering. “That would be lovely, sir.” 

He tips his hat and then runs off into the trees where Willow went. You hear him talking to her in a gentle voice. A moment later, he leads her out. You thank him and then try mounting up, but what was a difficult task before is even harder now that your shoulder’s hurt. 

“You need help, ma’am?” he asks again. 

You nod and with a wavering voice explain that you’re new to this. He huffs a small laugh. “New to ridin’ a horse, sounds like ya just came here from London or someplace. You sure you’re doin’ a’right?”

You realize he’s not asking about your physical being, but more about your situation. 

“To be honest, no sir. I’m… well, I come from a wealthy family but my husband died in a… a bad way and I had to run. Only I don’t know the first thing about being on my own.” You hope he doesn’t hear the lie. 

“That much is clear,” he says, his hands on his hips. He looks rather attractive as he does and you blush and look away. He sighs heavily. “Well, sounds like you need help. Now I ain’t exactly clean in my own history, but I’m willin’ to offer you help until you get settled. Come on.” 

He helps you into your saddle and then leads you further down the road and into a large cluster of trees where a large camp is nestled. Over the next few hours, you’re forced to sit by the horses as the man who helped you discusses with two other men whether you should be allowed to stay. In the end, they agree you can with the warning that if you mention them to anyone, particularly lawmen or Pinkertons, they will not be forgiving. 

“Trust me,” you say to a tall man with a large black mustache and dark eyes. “I’ve no interest in speaking with lawmen. My husband will likely have them in his pockets, so they are just as much my enemy as they are yours.” 

The man nods and walks away, asking a middle-aged woman with a thick bun on her head to help you set yourself up.

*******************************

Over the next few weeks, you learn that the camp you’re living with is a gang of outlaws, led by Dutch Van der Linde. His second in command is Hosea Matthews and the man who brought you here, named Arthur Morgan, is his right hand man. 

Your introduction to the rest of the gang was not the smoothest as the matriarch, a woman named Susan Grimshaw, went into a right fit when she learned you have no domestic skills. “I never heard somethin’ so ridiculous in all my life!” she said. “Can’t even wash clothes!” 

The other girls were kind enough to teach you how to do the chores around camp. You knew how to sew at least, not because you ever had to repair your own clothing but because you’d learned as a child how to embroider and knit. Luckily, sewing up the gang’s clothing is similar work, though with little art. 

You like learning how to cook with a man named Simon Pearson. He’s quick to tell jokes, although he tells a lot of stories about his days with the navy and he only knows how to make a few things. You do somewhat miss having three-course meals three times a day, but you know you won’t starve here. 

Most of the people in camp are kind and curious about you, although you tell them nothing of your husband’s real identity. You’ve told them all he died and never mentioned his name. For some reason, you get the feeling that to let slip the fact that your husband is Leviticus would be a bad thing. Cornwall’s got a lot of business out this way and he’s made a lot of enemies. You simply tell the others that your husband and you moved down here from London a few years back but he’s always been an abusive, hateful bastard and because you’re in America, the land of opportunity, you finally had a chance to get away from your life after his death. The others scoff at you calling this place the land of opportunity, saying there’s little of that to go around for people like them. 

*******************************

You’ve become quite close to this gang that has quickly become your family over the last few weeks. Although most of them have their own sordid pasts, they’re good people. They have a sense of family you’ve never seen before, considering they come from a background your father would call “degenerate”. You’ve never seen people work so quickly and with such a sense of duty. Of course, that doesn’t mean they don’t have their problems with each other. Arguments do break out, but most of them seem to be for show and rarely end in physicality. 

Only a week after you’d shown up, Arthur and some of the others came back with a red-haired man named Sean. You instantly knew he was Irish the moment he spoke. Since you both came from across the pond, you became close friends. You would have liked to get to know a woman named Molly O’Shea better as she was also Irish and she clearly came from a privileged background, but she didn’t seem interested. 

The person who was most interested in you though was Arthur, the man who’d brought you here. Of course, you were extremely interested in him too and it didn’t take long for you to get feelings for him. He works the hardest out of all of them and he cares about everyone. You saw him bring Mary-Beth a fancy fountain pen one day after she’d mentioned she wanted one. During his rare breaks when he was in camp, he’d often come find you. He claimed he just wanted to make sure you were settling in fine, but you noticed he stuck around you more than the others. He asked a lot of questions about your past, what your childhood and marriage was like, why you left. You told him everything except who your husband was and the fact that he wasn’t really dead. 

When you mentioned you lived your entire life being waited upon, he told you it sounded awful. “How did you not feel like a prisoner?” he asked. You were caught off guard by the question. Before you’d run away, you never felt that way. Now that you’re out here though, completely responsible for yourself, you realize you might as well have been a prisoner. You feel slightly envious about the others, realizing that even though none of them (except perhaps Molly) grew from well-off families, they’re wealthier in something you missed out on in life. All of them have tradable skills that you’re just now learning. Not only that, none of them have to put on a mask, hide who they are. Karen’s not shy about her drinking habits. Tilly used to run with a vicious gang and sometimes she talks about what that was like. No one in camp has ever had to pretend to be someone else. Something you were never allowed to do. 

You sit now with the girls, reading aloud from a book Mary-Beth gave you. Although you often worked with them, they liked you to read aloud. Something about your accent, you suspected. Just as you’re reading a rather romantic scene from the almost sickeningly passionate story, Arthur walks over to your group, clearly wanting to see what’s going on. He has a habit of doing that, which you find endearing. You hide your smile and continue reading as he stops, his hand on his gunbelt. He smiles as he listens, his eyes soft. 

Just as he’s about to say something, John Marston walks over and punches his arm. “Come on, Arthur. Got a job for ya. We’re gonna steal some sheep but need to go to Valentine for something.” 

“Fine,” Arthur says gruffly. Not long after they leave, Dutch and Strauss head off too. 

An hour or so later, the four men come back looking sweaty and angry, Strauss’s leg is bleeding. You’re washing some plates by Pearson’s wagon and Hosea marches over to them. 

“Dutch, Dutch what happened?” 

Dutch dismounts his white horse. “Turns out old Leviticus Cornwall don’t take too kindly to being robbed.” You freeze when you hear the name, but Dutch doesn’t notice. “He came up and tried to kill us, wants us to stop robbing him. We’ll have to leave this place, we had to shoot half the town in order to escape.” 

You follow Dutch into his tent, staying a few steps behind as you listen to him and Hosea. They talk a little more about what led to them being shot at, but neither of them mention knowing Leviticus has a runaway wife. You breathe a sigh of relief. They don’t know, and if they do, they don’t know it’s you. 

******************************

After fleeing Horseshoe Overlook, Arthur and Dutch both agreed you needed to learn how to rob, ride a horse properly and shoot a gun. Arthur took it on himself to teach you those things and he was an incredible instructor: patient, knowledgeable but not arrogant. The more time you spent with him, the deeper your feelings got. A nagging suspicion settled in your gut that he liked you too. It was just the soft way he spoke to you, how his hands lingered on yours when he taught you how to shoot a shotgun. One time you slid right off Willow’s back and he came over to help you up, but his hands stayed on your arms too long. 

It didn’t take long for rumors to get out that you and Arthur were sweet on each other. Of course, you tried denying them, more to protect Arthur than yourself. No way could he want to be with you: a spoiled rich girl who didn’t even know how to sew a button on a shirt when he met you. He never treated you like a spoiled brat and he mentioned to you time and time again how sweet and honest you’ve been with everyone. 

One night after Arthur, Karen, Bill and Lenny robbed the bank in Valentine, Dutch demanded a party for their success as they brought back a lot of cash. Everyone drank and sang together, but it wasn’t long before Sean, Uncle and Lenny started needling Arthur for having a crush on you. He denied it again and again until John came up and joined the fun, stating how obvious it was with a list of examples of his behavior that proved he liked you. 

“I bet you ten dollars, Morgan,” John said, “that if you went over there and kissed her on the mouth right now, that girl would be blushing like crazy and wouldn’t even be mad. I know she likes you.” 

“Shut your damn mouth, Marston,” Arthur retorted. That was until the other boys joined in on the bet, which climbed up to fifty dollars. All he had to do was kiss you in front of everyone right now. He’d had a lot of whiskey and his face was bright red, but when he looked at you sitting at the round table singing with Grimshaw, he couldn’t help but feel his heart flutter. You looked so beautiful in the light of the lantern, your cheeks pink from your own drunken state. 

“Go get her, son,” Hosea said. Arthur looked at him and then got up, walking slowly over to you. He fidgeted with his hands, terrified but fueled by drink. When he got to your table, he stopped. 

“Y/N, I got somethin’ to say to ya,” he said. 

You smiled and stood up so he could address you. “Alright, Mr. Morgan. What is it?” 

He stammered for a bit, his face growing redder. He hid his eyes beneath his hat and his hands were shaking. God, he was cute when he was nervous. 

Without warning, he suddenly grabbed you and bent you slightly backwards, his lips planting on yours. Out of all the things Arthur could have done that night, that was certainly the last thing you expected. You almost pulled away, but his lips were warm and rough against your smooth skin. He smelled nice too, like pine and leather although you could taste the alcohol on his lips. Forgetting that you had an audience, your hand wove up behind his neck, pulling him closer. Your chest grew warm and a light feeling overcame you, making you kiss him back. 

Someone whistled at you and Arthur, followed by several people laughing. That brought you back down to the present and Arthur pulled away from you and then straightened you up. His face was horribly red, but he was smiling. “Sorry, Y/N,” he said. “I hope I didn’t frighten ya.” 

“Maybe a little, but I liked it,” you said, your hand still on his chest. You glanced at the onlookers as they continued to laugh and tease you. You bit your lip and looked up at Arthur. “What say you we go somewhere more private and try that kiss again?” 

He quickly grabbed your hand and led you off into the trees and then onto a moon-bathed beach by the lake. There, you two ended up doing much more than kissing, although that’s how it started. Encouraged by your drunken states, you were the one who got carried away and stripped out of your clothes in order to swim in the lake to relieve the heat of the air and your body. Arthur followed soon after, but you remember the way he watched you swim. Not long after, you ended up lying with him on the beach, his body glowing silver under the moon. You climbed onto him just to kiss him, but as you were naked and alone, it didn’t take much to end up going further. 

Although the only man you’d slept with before had been Leviticus, it was never on your terms and he only did things with you for a moment before he reached his satisfaction and was done with you. However, Arthur was so different. He touched you in just the right places, his rough hands gliding along your naked back and hips. He felt amazing inside of you as well, almost as though your bodies were molded for the other’s. He’d gotten you to release first then followed shortly after. You never knew sex could be so passionate and emotional, but Arthur made you feel and think things you’d never experienced before. 

The morning after had been a bit awkward when the two of you woke up naked on the beach, still wrapped around one another. You had a pounding headache and knew Arthur did too. When you remembered what you’d done together, you both panicked a moment. Had you really slept with Arthur the same night you found out he loved you back? The two of you dressed but stayed on the beach and talked things out. You came to the decision that what had happened had felt right and you wanted to stay together. After that, you were very open with your relationship to Arthur with the rest of the gang. 

That all happened weeks ago, and you’ve grown to love him more than you thought possible. You’d dreamed of finding a man to love as a child, but had no idea it felt like this. Even as a child, the men you’d imagined you’d love couldn’t hold a candle to Arthur. He’s thoughtful and secretly sensitive, but protective and strong. You remember the way he held you when Sean died, almost crushing you as you sobbed into his chest. Another time in Saint Denis, a man on the street had said something rather rude about you and Arthur punched him in the jaw. “You don’t get to say shit about my girl, ya hear?” he roared as the man fled. You couldn’t dream of a more perfect man to love than Arthur Morgan. 

You were crushed when Hosea and Lenny died and most of the gangs’ men, including Arthur, ended up on a boat and stranded on Guarma. You never thought you’d miss anyone so much, but during the couple of weeks that he was gone, you felt physical pain in his absence. You spent many nights lying on his cot clutching one of his shirts, willing his scent to stay and offer you some level of comfort. When he returned, it was like you could breathe again. Shortly afterwards though, the Pinkertons forced you and the gang to flee Lakay and into Beaver Hollow, an old Murphree hideout. 

That’s where you are now. While things with the gang have always had rough patches, now they’re worse than ever. People fight constantly and Dutch seems to be losing his mind. He’s changed from the intelligent, cunning but caring man into someone who’s still intelligent and cunning but enjoys killing. It doesn’t help that Micah constantly hisses into his ear. 

Over the past few months of travelling with the gang, you’ve heard relatively little from and about your husband. Somehow you’ve managed to avoid the patrols he’s likely sent out to look for you and you only saw your name show up once in an article in the Saint Denis paper about your disappearance. However, with tensions in the camp running higher than ever and Dutch acting so mad, you’re beginning to fear things are about to come to a head with you at the center. 

Micah strolls into camp, holding a newspaper under his arm and followed by Bill. They’ve just come from Annesburg, having scouted there for possible leads on scores. You’re standing at Pearson’s wagon, preparing tonight’s stew. Micah gives you a knowing and dark smile that you don’t like as he heads to Dutch’s wagon. A bad feeling comes into your stomach and you follow behind him a few steps. 

“Dutch, I just found somethin’ out. Somethin’ that could be real useful. Somethin’ with ol’ Cornwall,” Micah simpers at him. 

Dutch lowers his cigar and looks at Micah expectantly. Micah rubs his hands together. 

“Did you know ol’ Cornwall’s married and his little wife ran away right after we robbed his train up in Ambarino?” 

“How is this any use to us?” Arthur demands, having been attracted by the name Cornwall. “Not like we’re gonna find her.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, cowpoke. Turns out we already found her and she’s right there.” Micah spins and points right at you. Everyone in camp stops and stares at you as your blood runs cold. 

“Shut up, Micah,” Arthur growls, walking up to your side to protect you. “Y/N’s husband’s dead.” 

“Or is he?” Micah retorts. He flings the newspaper at Arthur. “Read it and weep, Morgan.” 

Arthur furrows his brow but opens the newspaper. “N-no, don’t!” you plead, but too late. There’s a black and white photograph of you standing arm in arm with Leviticus Cornwall, your unsmiling faces staring up at Arthur. He reads the first bit of the article aloud. 

“Leviticus Cornwall, executive of Cornwall Kerosene and Tar, Cornwall Rails blah blah blah has released a new statement regarding the disappearance of his wife. Back in May, Mr. Cornwall’s train was robbed in Ambarino by the notorious Van der Linde gang. In order to investigate the robbery, Mr. Cornwall and his wife Y/N came down from their home in Pennsylvania. Mr. Cornwall last saw his wife in Annesburg when she left to stay in his residence in New Hanover. It was reported that she did not arrive at the home but her stage driver and chauffeur, Mr. Stanley Wilcox, claimed she was missing shortly after arriving at Emerald Ranch. It was unknown then if they had been involved in her disappearance or if she’d been kidnapped by other means.”

“Earlier this month, a citizen of Saint Denis stated he’d seen Mrs. Cornwall in the city. ‘I’d just visited the Cornwall manor a week previously on business with my brother,’ Mr. Henry Larson reports. ‘I saw a painting in a hallway of Mr. Cornwall and his wife Y/N. I recognized her immediately. She was dressed like a farm girl but it was definitely her.’”

“A few days after this incident was reported, authorities had reached Mr. Cornwall about his wife’s appearance, but before he could arrive, the Saint Denis Massacre occurred in which the previously mentioned Van der Linde gang attempted to rob the city’s bank and a shootout between them, the city’s law enforcement and the Pinkerton Detective Agency occurred. The gang of outlaws has since fled the area, but rumors speculate that Mrs. Cornwall is among them. If anyone holds any information towards her whereabouts, they are greatly urged to come forward. Mr. Cornwall has offered a considerable $20,000 to anyone who can find his wife and return her safely.” 

Arthur lowers the paper, his eyes dark. Your hands are trembling. The cat’s out of the bag now and you’re in big trouble. Micah sniggers as Arthur looks at you, his eyes tell you the betrayal and pain he feels. 

“You’re Y/N Cornwall,” he says as a tear slides down your cheek. 

“Only on paper,” you say. “I didn’t know how to tell you.” 

“Oh because it was so hard to say ‘hello, I’m Y/N Cornwall, you just robbed my husband but do you mind if I run with you fellas a while’ when you first arrived?” Micah taunts. Dutch’s eyes are narrowed slightly, the way they do when he’s got a plan coming together. 

You look around at everyone staring at you in shock. Some look like they have a hard time believing it, Mary-Beth and John for example, while others look angry and hurt. Arthur is among them. He drops the newspaper and takes a step back from you.

“All this time,” he says quietly. “All this time and you never mentioned once you’re his goddamn wife!” 

Another tear falls. “I’m sorry, Arthur. Everyone, I’m sorry. But how was I supposed to tell you the truth? You robbed my husband, he tried to kill you. Not only that, I was never married to him by choice. My parents basically sold me to him and he’s never made me happy. Maybe… maybe I was just happy to finally be around people who didn’t associate me with him for once.” 

You clasp your hands in front of you, willing any of them to understand. Dutch walks slowly towards you, his jaw set. Micah follows behind, looking excited.

“You’re Y/N Cornwall. The man who has been hunting us for months. The man who holds the ticket to our freedom from this cesspit of a country. I think I have a new plan.” 

His eyes narrow, glittering. You suddenly realize what he’s thinking. 

“Dutch, please don’t take me to him. I’m begging you. If he finds me again, he’ll kill me. I don’t even know if he’ll pay you for me. Dutch, he hates you and your boys more than anything, you were the only ones stupid enough to rob him. I know for a fact he’s paying the Pinkertons to hunt you down.” 

“How do you know this?” John asks, standing next to Arthur.

“Because I know Leviticus better than any of you,” you say. “He obviously figured out pretty quickly that the gang from Blackwater were the same ones to rob him. He also must have found out the Pinkertons were looking for you, so I’ve no doubt he contacted them and started putting money into their pockets.” 

“Or you’re the rat we’ve been looking for,” Micah sneers. “Maybe you’re the one telling the Pinkertons our every move. Think about it, Dutch. All our problems with them started right after we took her in. She’s been lying to us from the start.” 

You don’t know what to say in your defense. Since you have lied to them from the start about your true past, there’s nothing you can do to say you aren’t lying to them now.

“Dutch, please,” you whisper, your lower lip trembling. 

He sighs and stares hard at you. “Tie her up.” 

Before you can move, two pairs of hands grip you tight and throw you down, your hands and feet being tied up. People are yelling, you hear Sadie screech and Arthur roar. You start trying to look around to ask someone for help, but a black cloth is tied around your head, covering your eyes. Someone shoves another cloth into your mouth, preventing you from speaking. You can still hear though. 

“Dutch!” Arthur roars. “Let’s talk about this! We can’t take her to Cornwall! Like she said, ain’t no guarantee he’d pay us after all the problems we given him.” 

You feel yourself thrown over a horse’s back as Dutch says, “This is the right move, Arthur. I don’t like it, but she’s used us and this is our best shot at getting out of here. Heyaw!” 

The horse beneath you suddenly begins to run and you can hear the pounding of other horses. Arthur still yells at Dutch, trying to make him think logically, but Dutch ignores him. 

After a while of heavy riding in which you feel like all your ribs and your stomach have been heavily bruised from the horse’s movements, they stop. You can smell the thick coal dust and the smell of polluted water. Someone’s hands grab you and you’re set on your feet, the ropes cut. The bandana and gag are removed and you see you’re standing on the pier of Annesburg, a boat docked. The name of it is The Soaring Emily. Leviticus named it that after his first wife. 

“Cornwall!” Dutch hollers, keeping a painfully tight hold on your arm. “Cornwall! Get out here! My friends and I have a proposal for you!” 

Looking behind you and Dutch, you spot Bill, Micah, John and Arthur. Arthur looks at you, pain in his eyes. He doesn’t want to do this, but nothing can stop Dutch in his roll. 

A door on the ship’s deck opens and Leviticus Cornwall steps out, flanked by a group of men, all holding rifles. His eyes glare at you and then to Dutch.

“My friend,” Dutch says. “I heard tell that your lovely wife got away from your clutches. Well, just so happens, she’s been stowing away with me and my boys for the last few weeks. Rumor says you’re wanting her back, so we’re here to make a deal. You give me and my boys that $20,000 and a boat. You get your wife back and we’ll stop robbing from you. In fact, you’ll never hear from us again.” 

Leviticus just laughs. “Mr. Van der Linde, I admire your determination and your daring, but if you think I will give you a single penny, then you’re sorely mistaken.” 

“How about now?” Dutch responds, pulling out his pistol and aiming it at your temple. He pulls the back the hammer, your heart pounding in your ears as more tears fall down your cheeks. Dutch wouldn’t kill you, would he? After all the time you spent in his camp, helping feed the others and bring in money, he’s just going to kill you. Something tells you he will if he doesn’t get his way. 

“Dutch,” Arthur hisses a warning behind him. He’s ignored.

“Now Mr. Cornwall, I know what it’s like to see the woman you love die by the hands of your greatest enemy. Now while I doubt poor Y/N here is the love of your life, you obviously value her in some way. Which would you rather keep? Her life or your money?” 

Cornwall glares back at him, his teeth bared. “I’m a businessman, Mr. Van der Linde. Business doesn’t care for feelings or love. Shoot her if you must, but I will not give you anything!” 

Your stomach drops as you realize that this is it. Dutch is just crazy enough that he won’t care about shooting a member of his own gang. You’re not surprised at all that Leviticus is willing to let you die. To him, you’re replaceable, a mere object. Still you thought you mattered to the others, to Arthur. 

Before anyone can do anything to save you from Dutch’s grip, Dutch nods. “You sure? Fine, I prefer it this way.” He suddenly swings the gun forward and shoots Cornwall, the bullet piercing his chest. He pushes you down as Cornwall’s men begin firing, the others shooting back. The gang begins to run as more men come out from the boat, leaving you where you’ve fallen. You start to scream, begging for help, but it seems no one can hear you amidst the gunfire. 

Suddenly a pair of hands grabs your arms and cuts the length of rope binding them, then they lift you up. “Come on, sweetheart,” Arthur’s rough voice says as you stand. 

You’re shaking hard and you want nothing more than to throw your arms around him, but now isn’t the time. Sharp gunshots litter the air, echoing off the buildings. Arthur grabs your hand and runs north on the train tracks. When you reach a bridge going over a sharp dip in the land, a path running through it, he stops. 

“You go, darlin’,” he says, breathing hard. “Go, don’t come back to Beaver Hollow. It ain’t safe for you there.” 

“Arthur, I’m sorry,” you say, thinking he’s pushing you away because he’s mad. 

“Just go, darlin’. I’ll come find you when I can. But you can’t come back, ya hear? You do and you’re dead.” Before you can say anything else, he’s running back down the bridge towards Annesburg to rejoin the gang. You know he can’t leave of course. Not now anyways. Dutch and the others still depend on him too much. 

You flee from Annesburg, having no idea where you’ll go or what you’ll do. Your horse is back at Beaver Hollow, but luckily all your money and the few pieces of jewelry you stole from Leviticus are in your satchel. You run north towards Willard’s Rest and then stop by the wide river where you finally break down. The past few weeks come rushing through you, the good and the bad. You know since Guarma, Dutch has gone crazy but you never thought he’d turn on you like that. Not when he’s spouted for weeks about having loyalty and faith to anyone who would listen. Your life has come crashing down around you so swiftly, you aren’t sure how to process it. 

You stay here for a few hours, going between sobbing, missing the gang (especially Arthur) and feeling numb. As the sun begins to set, you look down the path and see Arthur riding up, your horse in tow. When you see him, you begin to cry again. You don’t run to him though, knowing how hurt he must be. 

He dismounts and walks over to you, pulling you into a tight hug which surprises you. “Arthur, I’m so sorry,” you wail into his shirt. “I never meant to hurt you.” 

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he says into your hair. “I know why ya lied. Hell, I probably would’ve too. But everything else you said, was it true?” 

“Everything is. The way I grew up, how I was sold to him. I promise his name and the fact that he wasn’t dead at the time was the only parts I hid.” 

He sighs and pulls away. “Well, I guess one of your lies came true today though. Darlin’, I’m so sorry.” 

Over the next few hours, you and he discuss what will happen now. He comes to the decision he won’t leave the gang, he can’t. He knows now that there’s no saving Dutch, but maybe he can help the others get out. You, on the other hand, would be handed a death sentence if you stepped foot into the camp. He asks what you want to do and you admit that you just want to live somewhere alone with him and have a quiet life, begin a family with him. He blushes but agrees that’s what he wants to. 

The next day, he takes you to a small cottage he’s seen on the borders of New Hanover and Ambarino, not far from the river. It’s secluded and well hidden in the trees. You have plenty of money to set your things in order, so you’ll be well off here. It’s also far enough from the gang that they won’t find you but it’s not far enough for him to not come visit you. 

Over the next couple of weeks, he visits every couple of days. You manage to take care of yourself quite well having learned through him how to hunt and skin animals. You bought some materials and seeds from the store in Valentine and are determined to start a garden, although you’ve never taken care of plants before. It’s a lot harder than you thought, but you manage to get a few plants sprouting. 

When Arthur visits, he tells you of the things he and the gang has done, how much crazier Dutch gets. Arthur himself is growing angry and mistrustful of him, but he’s determined to help the others escape with their lives. Sometimes you read about the gang’s activities in the paper in Valentine, like Bacchus Bridge being blown up, Colm O’Driscoll’s hanging in Saint Denis followed by a deadly shootout, tensions growing between the Wapiti and the army. 

One night Arthur shows up at your little cabin late into the night. He’s exhausted and there’s blood on his hands. “I’m done, darlin’,” he says when you open the door. “I ain’t ever goin’ back there. I’ve wasted my life livin’ the preachings of a crazy man.”

“What happened?” 

Arthur explains how the son of the Wapiti chief went and did a raid on Cornwall’s oilfield in order to retaliate for them forcing his people off their land. You know Arthur has had many dealings with them, trying to help them in their struggles against the army. Arthur then describes how, after getting bonds from the foreman’s office, he got knocked down by a burst pipe. An officer pinned him to the floor and nearly overpowered him. Dutch had seen it all and even had the chance to kill the man, but Arthur watched him walk away, sealing his fate. 

“If Eagle Flies hadn’t come, I’d be dead. Then that asshole Colonel Favors shot him. He’s dead now, and all because Dutch didn’t care if I died. When I accused him of such, he lied in front of everyone and said he’d done no such thing. I’m done, darlin’. I’m done fightin’ his battles for him just so he can leave me to die. I wanna start a new life with you properly now.” 

“Arthur,” you say, cupping his cheek. “That’s all I ever wanted.”


	35. Pregnancy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hello dear writer! Can you write scenario of Arthur receiving some wonderful news by reader about him becoming a father?

Warnings: swearing, childbirth 

You wake up, the leaves whispering in your ear as they dance in the morning’s breeze. You’re on your back, Arthur’s arm draped over your stomach in his sleep. You smile at his sleeping face and lean over, kissing the tip of his nose lightly. You feel like you’re the luckiest girl in the world being involved with Arthur Morgan. 

As you’re admiring his features, your stomach clenches painfully. Damn it, you’d hoped this would go away. The last couple of days you’ve been hit with waves of nausea, but you’re sure it’s just from a stomach bug or maybe you ate something funny. You extract yourself from Arthur’s arm and run to the edges of Horseshoe Overlook, preparing yourself to hurl. It doesn’t come and so you sit down, your forehead sweating a little. After some time, the stomach cramps disappear and you feel a bit better. 

When you rejoin camp, Arthur’s walking over to you, holding a cup of coffee. You take it and thank him, not sure you want to drink it. The two of you stand by your shared tent for a moment, drinking and holding hands. 

As the day wears on and Arthur is called on various chores, including taking you and the other girls to Valentine, you’re still feeling a bit odd. Every once in a while, you’ll be hit with nausea again while at other times you get a powerful craving for specific kinds of food, like bacon and chocolate. You find yourself slightly repulsed by the desire to have chocolate-covered bacon. 

Night comes and you go to bed early due to a headache. Arthur’s getting worried about you. He’s noticed your bouts of nausea but he’s sure you’re just a bit ill from something. He sends you to bed because of your headache, telling you that you’ll feel better in the morning. 

You stay awake though and wait for him. Despite your headache, you’re hankering for something else. Something you need Arthur’s help with. When he joins you an hour later, you practically attack him. He’s taken by surprise but he doesn’t mind at all and does his best to satisfy you, which luckily doesn’t take much from him. However, you do notice while making love to him that your chest is much more tender than usual and even hurts a little when Arthur touches you there. He notices and apologizes before moving to other places. 

In the morning, you’re still nauseous. You’re beginning to worry about what’s wrong with you. When Arthur gets up, you go with him to get some coffee but he’s called over by Hosea. A few minutes later, he comes back stating he’s going to go hunting with him and might be gone until tomorrow. You kiss him goodbye, although you’d been planning to ask him to go to the doctor’s with you. You’ll have to go alone, you suppose, as everyone else is busy. Before Grimshaw has a chance to swoop down on you, you mount up on your horse and leave for town. 

The doctor stands at his desk, adding a clear liquid to a tiny vial. He greets you when you come in and asks how he can help. You explain that you’ve been sick the last few days. He nods, his jaw set. 

“You’d better come in back with me. I’d like to do an examination on you.” 

You suddenly wonder if it’s more serious than a simple stomach bug. You follow him into the room and he instructs you to sit. Once you do, he grabs a chart and puts on his glasses. “Now explain to me all your symptoms, even if they seem strange or out of place.” 

You nod and list off what you’ve experienced. When you’re done, he asks, “Are you sexually active?”

The question catches you off guard. “I don’t see why that’s important,” you say, feeling defensive. You cross your legs. 

“Trust me, ma’am, it is. Just say yes or no, be honest, and I’ll explain why I’m asking.” 

You sigh and then admit that you are. The doctor makes a final note on his paper, sets it on his lap and looks up at you. 

“Well, miss, all the signs say that you’re pregnant.” 

Your eyes widen and you hear a rushing sound in your ears. “W-what?” you say. “No, no that can’t be. I’m not… I’m not…” 

“I’m real sorry, miss. I ain’t one to judge, you’re surely not my first patient with an unexpected pregnancy. However it is one of the risks you take during intercourse.” 

Your eyes are tearing up. You’ve been with Arthur a few months now and of course dreamed of having a family with him, but now is the worst time. The gang’s on the run and it would be difficult, if not impossible, to get the right tools to care for a child. You sit and listen to the doctor as he explains the changes your body’s about to make and what to expect. 

When you leave the doctor’s office, you feel terrified and dumbfounded. How could this have happened? You and Arthur have been so careful every time you’ve had sex, he always makes sure to never finish inside you. As you ride back to camp though, your mind drifts back to the night just before the Blackwater heist. You and Arthur had been out alone on a hunting trip and had gotten frisky. You’d gotten him overworked and he’d gone off before he had the chance to pull out. You told yourself it wasn’t a problem, that people rarely got pregnant after only one time of the man coming inside the woman, yet here’s the proof that your knowledge on pregnancies is wrong. 

As you ride up slowly to Horseshoe Overlook, you put your hand on your stomach. Could Arthur’s child really be in you? Something about it feels right and yet the timing is all wrong. Your heart sinks again when you realize you’ll have to tell him, but how? Will he be angry? Will he dump you and leave you to care for the child alone? You automatically know he wouldn’t do this. He’s already told you about Eliza and Isaac and how he tried to look after them. He surely would do the same for you and your baby, if not better. 

When you arrive in camp, you do your best to swallow your fears and worries. You put on a straight face and head over to the other girls, sitting down with them to work on laundry. You try to act normal, but obviously don’t do a very good job. 

“You a’right, Y/N?” Mary-Beth asks. “Been awful quiet.” 

Without warning, you suddenly burst into tears. Tilly and Mary-Beth stop and even Karen wanders over, worried. 

“I… I don’t know what to do!” you wail into your hands. You explain to them in hushed tones about your predicament. “What will Arthur say?” you sniff. “I’m scared to tell him, how could he not be mad? Right now’s the worst time for us to have a baby!” 

Mary-Beth puts a hand on your shoulder. “Ah, he won’t be mad! Not like he didn’t have a hand in it, after all. ‘Sides, if I know Arthur, I know he’ll be so excited. Why, you probably couldn’t give him better news!” 

“But… but it’s the worst time for us to have a child. What with lawmen breathing down our necks and being on the run. How am I going to do this? What will Dutch say?” 

“This ain’t for Dutch to decide,” Abigail says. She’s walked over and you suddenly realize she’s the best person for you to talk about this with because she was and still is in your shoes with Jack and John. 

“What do I do, Abigail?” you beg her for answers. She sits down next to you with a heavy sigh. 

“I know it’s real scary, Y/N. The first thing ya gotta do is talk to Arthur since he is the father. The two of you can come to the decision about what happens down the road. Don’t talk to Dutch or Hosea, wait until you talk to him.” 

She pats your hand comfortingly. You suddenly wish Arthur was here, not because you’re excited but because you just want to get this over with. He’s gone the rest of the day though and isn’t back until later the next day. When he comes back, he waves and smiles at you, as he always does. You find yourself trembling and returning his wave halfheartedly. He walks over to you and tries wrapping his arms around you like he normally does, but you find yourself pulling away. 

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” he asks, worry sketched across his face. 

“Arthur, we need to talk alone. It’s important.” 

He looks down at you, his smile fading. He swallows hard and nods. “Okay,” he says softly. You clasp your hands together and walk into your shared tent. He pulls the flaps shut so you can have some privacy and then you turn to him, shaking. 

“Arthur, I-I need to tell you something. Something’s happened and I can’t…” you look away, your eyes tearing up. Your throat feels like it’s swelling shut. 

“Darlin’, ya can tell me anythin’. I just hope I haven’t hurt ya somehow.” His eyes are hidden beneath his hat and he looks miserable. You realize he thinks you’re probably about to break up with him, so you grab his hand. 

“Arthur, you haven’t hurt me. You’re the best man I’ve ever known. If it wasn’t for our situation right now, I’d be so excited to tell you this. But seeing as things are the way they are now, I’m.... Arthur, I’m scared.” 

“Why? What’s goin’ on?” He looks up at you.

“I’m… I’m pregnant, Arthur.” You put your hands over your face and start to cry. You fully expect him to storm out of the tent after a moment, or to leave or to say something horrible to you. What you don’t expect is him wrapping his arms around you and putting his cheek on your head as you sob into his chest. 

“Darlin’, that’s wonderful!” 

“No, it’s not, Arthur. How are we going to do this?” you say into his shirt. “We can’t run from lawmen with a newborn. How are we supposed to survive?” 

He rubs your back and sighs. “I know it’s real scary right now and I don’t know what’s goin’ to happen anymore than you do. I do know this though.” He pulls you away so he can look into your watery eyes. “I’m gonna be with ya every step of the way, ya hear? You ain’t gotta do this alone. I ain’t gonna be like John and abandon you for a year, and I ain’t gonna do to you what I did to Eliza and Isaac. We’re gonna get through this together.” 

You nod and begin to cry harder again, going back into the security of his arms. 

*******************************************

As the months pass, you and Arthur become closer. He’s done exactly what he’s promised and been with you through the entire process. He even quit taking debt collections from Strauss because he realizes that those people are in the same predicament as you: beginning a new family with no money and no hope. He also hates who he has to become in order to do it and doesn’t want to bring that home to you and your future child. Strauss doesn’t take it well but Arthur tells him to stick it up his ass.

After you told him about being pregnant, he took you around to the gang that night and announced it, calling for a celebration. You said it was the worst time to have a baby being on the run, but Arthur, Dutch and Hosea agreed that it was good to know new life was coming from all this drama and the deaths of Jenny and the Calendar boys. 

Dutch and Hosea were as excited as Arthur had been, declaring they already wanted to meet their grandchild. It was endearing to see them so happy and when the rest of the gang congratulated you and Arthur, that pit in your gut began to loosen and for the first time you felt excited too. 

When your belly began to swell to the point people could see it through your clothes, Arthur became increasingly protective. He’d always been so, but he turned it up even more. If anyone in town looked at you funny, he’d bark at them. 

Of course, you’d brought it to Arthur’s attention that you could just offer the child up for adoption, though you didn’t want to. He wouldn’t hear of it though. “I want this new chance, darlin’. I wanna watch our baby grow up.” You were grateful for this as all you ever wanted to give Arthur was a family. 

As your belly grew, your hormones changed with it. You started having wild cravings, but Arthur was almost always there to get the things you wanted, no matter how absurd or expensive the food was. Not only that, you started having wild mood swings. One night, you completely wore him out because you went from fucking him to sobbing into his chest about the silliest things, like when your childhood dog died and then right back to fucking him. 

Arthur remembers fondly when he first felt your baby thump. He’d been lying in your cot with you, his hand on your stomach when he felt the tiny bump. He grinned and started talking to your belly, which only made the baby thump even more. You noticed afterwards that your baby moved most often when it heard Arthur’s voice. 

Eight months have gone by since and you’re living with the gang in Shady Belle, having been forced to flee from Horseshoe Overlook and Clemens Point. Your stomach protrudes quite a bit now and you suffer constantly from back pain. Grimshaw has luckily eased up on you doing chores since you aren’t very mobile anymore, not to mention your feet have swollen up which makes it even harder to walk. Arthur’s hardly left camp in the last two weeks after you had false labor pains. Dutch and Hosea have begged him to go out and work but he won’t, not when you might deliver any day now. 

You’re lying in your cot in Arthur’s room now. It’s the middle of the day and swelteringly hot. You’re tired as you were kept awake last night by sharp pains in your lower back and pelvis. You don’t know if this means you’re close to giving birth, but Abigail’s been a great help. She’s given you lots of tips and hints about it. “You ain’t gonna like it,” she said, “but it’s worth it in the end. And as time goes by, you forget about the pain.”

Arthur walks into the room now and he greets you with a kiss. “How’s our baby?” he says softly, his hand on your large stomach. You put your hand over his and squeeze. “Good. I’m ready to be done though, Arthur. I knew pregnancies were hard but I didn’t think it’d be like this.” 

He chuckles. “I know, sweetheart. I have a feeling it’ll be soon though.” 

Dutch suddenly calls him and he leaves the room. You close your eyes, ready to try and take a nap when you feel something moist between your legs. Your eyes snap open and you remove your undergarments to see a large amount of blood. “Arthur!” you scream as pain begins waving through your body. 

He runs in and when he sees your state, he calls Abigail and Grimshaw. When they come in, they try pushing him out but he fights them, stating he wants to be with you. They relent and he holds your hand, letting you try to break it. 

As the hours pass, Abigail and Grimshaw check on you constantly. Finally they decide you’re dilated enough. Arthur gets a bucket of water while Abigail brings in blankets. When they’re ready, they help you position yourself and then tell you to start pushing. 

The pain is indescribable and you cry out, tears cascading from your eyes. Arthur sits by your head, whispering encouragement in your ears. You’re pretty sure you say some nasty things to him, which you later feel bad about, but he doesn’t take them to heart. After several hard pushes and wails from you, Abigail and Grimshaw suddenly gasp and pull something up. You’ve been blinded by the pain but you hear something getting lightly slapped and then a new, unfamiliar wail pierces the room. 

“She’s beautiful,” Arthur says in your ear. You open your eyes to see him crying and look down to see Abigail holding your daughter as Grimshaw starts cleaning her up. When she’s clean and bundled up, Abigail hands her to you. The little girl immediately quiets down in your arms as you rock her. She has a thick smattering of hair that’s the same color as yours, but when she opens her eyes they look just like Arthur’s. You look over at him, his own eyes moist, and hand her to him. 

He cradles the baby gently in his arms and the two look at each other as though they’ve known each other for years. “Hello, Amber Morgan. I’m your papa.” Your heart swells as he names her and you lean over to rest your head on his shoulder. He looks over at you and smiles. 

“This is the best thing I could ever ask for, Y/N. Thank you.”


	36. Mr and Mrs Morgan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hey there! I'm not sure if you've seen this movie ( Mr. & Mrs. Smith ) but can you write a Mr. & Mrs. Morgan fight scene against each other that leads them to having rough sex? Reader can be with the O'Driscolls gang or something, that makes them fight. Up to you.  
> Leave a comment if you like what you read!

You stare down at the table, your fingers brushing the cut-out article from a newspaper. There’s no picture to the article, just a header. “Van der Linde Gang still at large”. You’ve read it a hundred times by now. It talks about the notorious Dutch Van der Linde, Hosea Matthews, and a few other names, including your husband’s, Arthur Morgan. A large amount of money is being offered for each person mentioned, Dutch being the highest at $20,000. Arthur himself has a decent amount of $5,000. 

You were angry when you first read the article, when Colm brought it to your attention. You’ve run with his gang since you were just a teen with your older brother. It was your brother’s idea to join the O’Driscoll’s, he’d disguised you as a boy since Colm didn’t take women on. You already knew how to shoot a gun and ride a horse luckily, which was fine since Colm didn’t allow men into his gang who couldn’t do both. Although you were disguised as a boy, it didn’t take long for your real gender to be revealed. One of Colm’s boys spotted you when you were bathing in a river and let your secret out. Colm almost shot you in the head, stating women just slowed them down and you’d deceived him. Your brother defended you, pointing out that you were one of the best shots. Colm hesitatingly agreed, but he didn’t want you camping with his boys, declaring you would be little more than a distraction. 

As payment for your work and loyalty to the gang, he told you to live at one of his cabins he used a frequent hideout. You weren’t thrilled with this seeming demotion on your status, but you knew Colm’s temper had an extremely short fuse, so you didn’t argue. Only a few weeks after you were stationed, Colm collected you to help him investigate an incident at Six Point Cabin, another one of his hideouts. He nearly stationed you there and was thinking of moving you there now. When you two arrived, the place was littered with the bodies of your gang, including your brother’s. It crushed you seeing your brother like that and Colm offered no words of comfort. He was angry and he knew immediately this was Van der Linde’s work. 

You heard the name Van der Linde thrown around enough times. The man was a professional at stealing Colm’s scores. Not that Colm’s record against Dutch was clean. You heard the other men talk about how he killed Dutch’s lover Annabelle. Seems the two men were constantly trying to rob and kill each other. Six Point Cabin was when Colm gave you the article, stating that he was going to come up with a plan to somehow get a hold of Dutch and take him and his boys to Blackwater, turn them in for all that money, and then the gang would flee down to Mexico. He told you to take point in this cabin from now on as the Van der Linde’s were unlikely to return. 

The article hadn’t been a surprise to you. What had been a shock was reading your husband’s name. You’d been married to Arthur for over a year and he never mentioned he was in a gang, nonetheless Colm’s adversarial gang. Sure, he’d revealed before you were married that he was an outlaw, which was why he couldn’t stay in one place for too long. You’d lied too, stating you were a waitress in the Valentine saloon. You covered your knowledge of fighting by saying your family were hunters before they’d died in a terrible snowstorm, which was partially true. You had enough knowledge of hunting that he bought it. Now you’re conflicted though. When you first read the article, you thought maybe there’d been some misidentity or perhaps it was a different Arthur Morgan. However, plagued by fears, you dug into the Blackwater massacre and your Arthur was unquestionably the one mentioned in the article. Now you’re torn between your loyalty to your gang, whom your brother died for, and your loyalty to your husband. 

Arthur’s a wonderful husband, there’s no question about that. Were he not pursued by the law, he’d definitely be happy to settle down with you and make a proper family life for you. Many nights you’ve spent with him talking about how things could be if neither of you were so wanted (though he knew nothing of the price on your head). Arthur visits at least once every two weeks, sometimes having to travel for hours in order to do so, and he stays for a few days. When he’s with you, you both spend the time with lots of cuddles, kisses and sex. Arthur’s a pro at knowing how to satisfy you and you know exactly which of his buttons to push to make him fall head-over-heels for you all over again. 

When he arrives for each visit, he always brings something for you. Usually it’s money since he believes you’re a struggling waitress in Valentine (which you don’t try convincing him otherwise). He often brings flowers, books, jewelry, and other kinds of supplies. You always offer him lots of types of food since you spend most of your time at Six Point Cabin. You learned to cook from a young age and you prefer using fresh ingredients. You have enough time to collect fresh game and herbs too, being a watcher of Colm’s hideout. Arthur’s your top fan when it comes to your food, stating you could cook for a governor. He never leaves hungry after visiting you and you make sure his satchel is laden with snacks you’ve made from scratch. 

You pick up the article and reread it, your stomach clenching when you read Arthur’s name again. Colm visited only a few days ago. It’s been a couple of weeks since the attack on Six Point. You’d asked him during his visit if he knew which one of Dutch’s boys was responsible for the ambush. 

“Oh Dutch himself wouldn’t do this,” Colm stated. “Killing my men and your brother weren’t important enough for him to grace his presence on.” He inspected the bodies of the men, noting how many of them have been shot in the eye. “I bet that sniveling coward Kieran led his boys here, but this work says his number one gun led the charge.” 

“Who’s his number one gun?” you ask, praying he won’t say who you’re thinking it is. 

“Name’s Arthur Morgan. He’s this real big guy, almost a shame he ain’t runnin’ with us. We’d do real well with a fella like him.”

You wanted to vomit when Colm said this. The thought that your husband was the one who killed your brother was a detestable idea. However, as time has passed since Colm told you Arthur was the likely culprit, it’s begun to fester in your mind. If Colm finds out Arthur is your husband, he’ll shoot you before you even have the chance to tell him you’ve had no dealings with the Van der Linde gang. Yet if Arthur finds out your place with the O’Driscoll’s, you’re just as frightened. You’re much more frightened of losing him than Colm killing you. The man’s a bastard and you’ve only stayed in his gang because there is no getting out of his gang. To get out means to die. Not only that, your brother died for them. It’d be an insult to his memory to abandon this gang. 

Arthur’s visited once since you learned of your brother’s death. He didn’t act any different, but he knew something was off about you. You blamed it on just feeling under the weather and he coddled you, clearly trying to help you feel better. You couldn’t tell him though that you felt horrible because you were terrified you might be looking at your brother’s killer. He’d left two days later when he was sure you were feeling better (you lied and said you were). Colm came by a few days after that. 

“Colm, you still thinking of moving on with this plan to capture Van der Linde?” you asked, hoping he’d changed his mind. 

“Course. That’s a lot of money sitting on his head. We’re gonna run down to Mexico when we got him. Why you askin’, Y/N? Got somethin’ to say?” 

Your stomach felt cold when he asked you this and something in his eyes glittered accusingly. “N-no, sir. Just wanted to know the plan since I’m not running with you all the time anymore.” 

“I see,” he said greasily. “Well, I went around talkin’ to some folk, mentioned they met a feller sounds an awful lot like Morgan in the Valentine bar. They said he was drunk and talkin’ about how amazing his wife is. Now I ain’t spoken with Morgan in a long time, but I don’t recall him ever being married. Not only that, Malken and Henderson saw him in this area only a few days ago. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would ya?” 

You put on a poker face as best you could. “Course not, Colm. I don’t even know what Morgan looks like. All I know is what you’ve told me about him.”

“So if I brought you a newspaper article saying he’s been arrested and going to hang real soon, you wouldn’t care?” 

That’s when you know you’re secret’s out. Somehow, Colm’s found out. However, you won’t confess. Not yet. To confess now would promise a bullet into your skull. “No, I wouldn’t care, Colm. One less Van der Linde we’d have to worry about.” 

He nodded and then said he was leaving. “I’ll be back in a few days. I think this cabin ain’t a very good spot for you no more. The boys and I will collect you when we’ve found somewhere more… suitable.” 

Without a doubt, Colm’s promising to come back and kill you in front of the entire gang. An example of what will happen to anyone fraternizing with Dutch’s boys. You ponder on the wisdom of running away, but several of Colm’s boys are expert tracksmen. They’ll find you before you have the chance to even get to a different state. You realize the safest place for you is to be within Arthur’s gang. It might mean this Dutch will kill you, but Arthur sounds like he holds a high place of authority and he might be able to protect you. From what Colm was making it sound like, he’s been spending a lot of time in Valentine. That’s where you are now, sitting at the bar in the saloon with the article Colm gave you sitting in front of you. You throw your whiskey back when the door opens. 

“Darlin’, what ya doin’ here?” says a familiar voice. 

Looking over, you can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. “Arthur, I need your help with something. Ride home with me. I’ll explain, but I have some questions for you. Questions I need you to be honest about.” 

His face is serious. “A’right. Lead the way.” 

You don’t speak the entire ride back to your cabin, you’re not sure how to bring the subject up to him. He’s going to be angry, sure, when you tell him the truth. However, it’s the only way you can protect yourself since Colm’s already planning to kill you. When the cabin’s peaking through the trees, the river burbles happily not far from it. You dismount and take a few steps away from him. Finally, you turn. 

“Arthur, did you recently visit a place called Six Point Cabin a few weeks back? Maybe ran into a bunch of boys you might call the O’Driscoll’s?” 

“How you know about that, Y/N?” 

You don’t answer him straight away. “Did you see a man with a big patch of dark skin on the right side of his neck?” you ask. Your brother had a huge birthmark on his neck, which gave him the nickname Pinto in the gang. 

“Again, how do you know this, Y/N?”

“Just answer the question, Arthur, please!” 

He blinks at you, his hands on his hips. “Yeah, yeah I think I saw a feller with a mark like that.” 

“Did you kill him?” 

He sighs. “Yes I killed him, but he was shootin’ at me, darlin’, so it was him or me. Now why you askin’ me about this?” 

Your eyes tear up a bit and you bite your lip. “He was my brother, Arthur.”

His brow lowers. “You never told me you had a brother, nonetheless one who was an O’Driscoll? Those boys are nothin’ but bastards who have no moral code.” 

“Funny, he said the same thing about your gang.” 

“How’d you find out about my gang?” 

You wring your hands. “I… read about it. In the paper.”

Arthur takes a menacing step towards you. “So your brother was an O’Driscoll and I shot him in the head. But like I said, he was shootin’ at me.” 

“From what I heard, you were the ones who ambushed him and the others. Sounds like he was just defending himself, Arthur.” 

As if on cue, you both whip out your pistols and point them at each other. Arthur’s eyes gleam with pain and betrayal. “You’re an O’Driscoll, ain’t ya?” 

“And you’re a Van der Linde! Pretty high up in the hierarchy too from what Colm said. Your boss has been stealin’ a lot of scores from us, we’ve had to work twice as hard to get by.” 

“Yeah, and your boss has killed a lot of us, including Dutch’s girl. Not only that, they’ve stolen scores from us too. Which one is harder to replace, darlin’? People or money?” 

“You tell me, Arthur. You killed my brother! He practically raised me and if it wasn’t for him, I’d have died years ago.” 

Arthur narrows his eyes, he almost seems sorry. “So what you gonna do, darlin’? Kill me? Your brother’s first mistake was joinin’ Colm’s boys. He’s honestly lucky he lasted that long, as are you.” 

His words sting and you fire first, not aiming to kill him but your anger has fueled your trigger. He dodges behind a tree and then fires back at you. A boulder provides cover for you. The next few moments pass quickly and you exchange gunshots, darting between trees and boulders. You’re standing on the porch of the cabin and Arthur gets a particularly good shot, barely missing your foot. You hop out of the way and end up crashing into the cabin. Now you’re truly screwed. The cabin’s just one big room and there’s nowhere to hide. You back into it and stand close to the fireplace. 

Arthur marches into the door, his teeth bared and his eyes flashing with anger. You point your gun and pull the trigger, but it clicks. You’re out of ammo. You pull the trigger again and the same thing happens. 

“Time to stop runnin’, Y/N,” he says, his pistol pointed at you. 

You lower your gun, panting, and then drop it. “You’re right. Go ahead then, Arthur. I’m a dead woman anyways. Colm… he found out. About you and me. One of his boys must have talked. So even if you decide to just take pity on me and leave now, I’ll be dead in a few days. He’s coming for me, plans to make an example I imagine. Please, Arthur. Just pull the trigger. If I have to pick between a quick death and a slow one, I’ll choose quick.” 

He breathes hard for a moment and then lowers his gun. “I ain’t gonna kill ya, sweetheart. Your brother may have been a fool for gettin’ involved with Colm, but sounds like he cared about ya a lot and you’re only alive now because of him. I’m sorry I shot him, darlin’, but even though we’re in different gang, I made an oath when I married ya. I promised to protect ya. I ain’t lettin’ that bastard kill ya.” 

He walks slowly over to you, holstering his guns. You look up at him, a flicker of hope rising in your chest. 

“Arthur, Colm will know you’re protecting me. He’ll hunt you down even more than he is now. He… he’s planning on getting to Dutch somehow, turn him into the authorities in Blackwater, collect the money and run to Mexico.”

“That ain’t happenin’, darlin’. Dutch ain’t that stupid. But you and I…” the energy between you crackles. “You and I have a lot to discuss if this marriage is gonna continue to work. I want it to work. I love ya still, despite all this.” 

You leap forward and kiss him hard. The last thing you want is for your marriage to end because you made some poor choices in your youth. Arthur’s arms wind around you and then tangle into your hair. He pulls your head back and kisses your neck, his tongue coming out. Still fueled by adrenaline, you feel a sudden urge to fuck him. 

Panting slightly, you look Arthur in the eyes. “How about we start working on fixin’ this marriage right now, Arthur?”

Arthur suddenly rips your shirt open and tips you backwards on the table. He kisses you hard as he strips off your shirt and your chemise, his hands automatically finding your nipples. He’s only seen and felt them a hundred times before now, but he acts like this is the first time. He kisses you hard and then he leans up, his hands leaving your body. 

“Strip,” he says as he begins removing his own clothes. You can’t help but giggle as you stand up to take off your pants. As soon as you’re both naked, Arthur grabs you and puts you back onto the table. He kisses you as his cock brushes your folds. You bite his lower lip and he pulls away just slightly so your lips can’t touch anymore. 

“I want ya to touch yourself,” he says. You blush. He’s never asked you to do this, preferring to touch you himself. 

“Don’t you wanna do it?” you gasp as he grabs your legs and puts your feet on the edge of the table, spreading your knees so you’re exposed. 

“I wanna watch you get yourself off,” he says, his deep voice going through your body. His hands leave you and he takes a step back, his eyes on your lower half. Even from here, you can see he’s breathing hard as he waits for you, expectantly. 

You haven’t touched yourself since before you got married to Arthur. You haven’t had to. The thought of your own hands getting yourself off turns you on though, so you slide your fingers down and begin stroking your clit. You lay your head on the table, closing your eyes as you touch yourself. One hand circles your clit, studying your own nub as the other goes to your entrance. You open your eyes and see Arthur still standing there, his hands pulling on his cock as he watches you. Your eyes go down to his length, he’s already dripping. 

“You like what you see?” you ask, circling again and again. He nods and you press your fingers harder against yourself, going a bit faster. He must be able to hear how wet you are as your fingers stroke; he begins pumping himself a bit faster. As you get yourself closer to your release, your hips begin thrusting up and down slowly. Before long, you’re letting go to your own hand. 

When you come down, you look at Arthur and he’s standing between your legs. He grabs you, pulls you off the table and turns you around so your back is facing him. He bends you forward and spreads your legs, his cock finding your entrance easily. He plants his hands beside yours as he begins pushing himself into you forcefully. Then one hand grabs your hip, holding you close and his other goes up to your breast, fiddling with your nipple. You gasp in his grip as he moves fast, his cock sliding in and out of you. His lips kiss where your shoulder meets your neck and he nips you, making you hiss. 

This is new for Arthur, for you. All the times you’ve had sex with him, he’s been gentle unless you asked him to be rough. Now he’s pushing himself hard, his hands squeezing almost too tight on your hip and nipple. You have to stiffen your arms in order to prevent collapsing onto the table from the force of his bucking. 

“Arthur,” you say, trying to get him to acknowledge your discomfort, although you wonder if he doesn’t care in the light of your newly exposed secrets. You feel a twinge of guilt and realize you don’t get the luxury of him making you feel good right now. Not after how much you’ve lied to him. You hang your head and want to cry, but you’re sure he’ll become angry if you do. You can’t help it though as he pounds into you. Tears begin leaking from your eyes. 

“Am I hurtin’ ya?” he asks, suddenly stopping mid-thrust. His question does the trick and you let go. You’d be lying if you said his force and angle didn’t hurt just enough you won’t be able to orgasm from this. 

“N-no,” you say. “It’s not you. Keep going though, Arthur, you deserve to do this to me.” 

He suddenly pulls out of you and turns you around to face him. His hands go to your face and he brushes your hair away, rubbing your cheeks dry. His eyes are soft and betray his worry. He kisses you softly. 

“I want ya to feel good,” he says, taking you by surprise. 

“Why?” you say. 

“Because I love ya, despite all this. Darlin’, I love ya so much.”

“But I’ve lied to you. Hurt you.” 

“I know,” he says softly. “But you ain’t the only one. I’ve lied too. Not only that, I took your brother away from you. I ain’t ever gonna forgive myself for that.” He kisses you softly. 

You smile up at him and then lay down onto the table, spreading your legs. “Well, in that case, do what you must. Show me how sorry you are.” 

He smiles and pumps his cock again, making it stiffen up once more. He pushes back into you and starts to buck. This angle is much better as he can brush your spot. You close your eyes as your body moves from his force. His hands go to your hips, pushing you down onto him when he pushes in, allowing him to pound into you. You plant your feet onto the table again, giving him a better angle and your hand slides down to your slit. You’re hungry for the stimulation to your clit. When you begin brushing, you groan audibly. The sounds you make cause him to buck faster. 

“Always thought you sounded so pretty when I’m fuckin’ you,” he growls. You open your eyes and find his. The blue is so pretty and the intensity of them makes you rub even faster. It doesn’t take long before you’re going off again. Arthur doesn’t stop thrusting though as you clench your teeth and tip your head back, letting go. Your hand stops and he pushes it out of the way, stroking your clit. He wants to prolong your orgasm, you realize. 

“A-Arthur!” you whine as your orgasm rocks through your body. He still pounds into you, his fingers circling your clit. He gives it a quick flick and your hips thrust up. “I’m coming!” you grunt loudly. You feel as though you’re levitating, or perhaps your soul’s leaving your body. Thankfully, his hand stops and he goes back to thrusting your hips in time to his. 

You come down from your high, your hair planted to your neck. He grins down at you wickedly and continues pumping into you. His eyes glue themselves to your bouncing breasts. His hips suddenly snap against yours and he pulls out quickly, his hot seed spilling onto your stomach. When he’s done, he pants above you, his cock growing soft again. 

“Fuck,” he says. You’re breathing heavily and you reach up, pulling him down for a long kiss. He pulls away after a moment and reaches into his satchel, pulling out a cloth and cleaning you up. You sit up when he’s done and look at him hard, feeling relaxed in the wake of your passions. 

“Okay, Arthur. We need to talk about what’s going to happen. To us.” 

Arthur sits beside you on the table, your arms brushing. He grabs your hand and kisses it. “Well, I thought that’d be rather obvious, darlin’. I’m bringin’ ya with me to my gang. We’re out in a place called Horseshoe Overlook. Real pretty, think you’d like it.” 

“What about Dutch?” you ask. “Won’t he try to kill me when he finds out?” 

“He’ll be angry sure, and he probably won’t ever trust ya. You’ll have to work extra hard, but I’ll be with ya every step of the way. Dutch knows not to interfere with my family.” 

“Does he know you’re married?” 

He smiles. “I think he and Hosea know I’m involved with a woman, though I doubt they know I’m married. Dutch knows though that I’ll go where you go, he ain’t got a say in that. And I know he wants me around. Don’t worry, you’ll be safe, darlin’. Especially if you got some dirt to dig up on Colm. As long as you don’t try hidin’ what you know, you’ll be fine. That’s the mistake Kieran made. Wouldn’t speak even when we starved and beat him. Had to threaten him with Bill’s geldin’ tongs.”

“So you’re saying that as long as I speak up before they have a chance to torture me, I’ll be fine?” 

“Yes and no. Like I said, don’t think Dutch will ever trust ya.” 

“I didn’t stay in the gang for Colm. That man’s a bastard and I’d like nothing more than to see him shot. I stayed for my brother. I would have left the gang as soon as I found out he was dead, but Colm doesn’t allow deserters. Either you’re an O’Driscoll or you’re dead.” 

“I understand, darlin’. And if that’s the case, it might make Dutch be a little more lenient on ya.” He squeezes your hand again. “Now how about you and I go somewhere I can keep ya safe? Or would you prefer we go another round again?” 

You smile at him. “I think one more round sounds nice.”


	37. The bathgirl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hey! I hope you've been well after the earthquake incident that happened. I was wondering if you can write a scenario where fem. Reader gives Arthur a hand job? She's a bathgirl in any of saloons ( writer's choice. ) and he goes to her everyday to relieve his pent up tension.

You stare out the window, looking on Valentine’s mainstreet. For some reason, it doesn’t matter the time of day or the year, the street’s always muddy. Combination of frequent rain along with constant traffic and horse waste, probably. It doesn’t exactly improve your mood or opinion of this town. 

You’ve only been in Valentine for six months. You came here looking for work as you had nowhere else to go. Unfortunately, Valentine isn’t exactly a town with a lot of opportunities for women. You could have been one of the working girls in the saloon, but the other women had a tight knit clique and weren’t too fond of you for their own reasons. The girls working in the hotel were a lot simpler and therefore nicer. You weren’t overjoyed that part of the work was to assist men who wanted help in the washroom. It wasn’t the work itself, you didn’t mind it, it was the people. Most of them were men, farmers, blacksmiths, stableboys, the like and most of them often said quite disgusting things to you and they smelled even worse. But the perks of dealing with them was you got to keep all the money the men gave you. 

Luckily your duties weren’t just washing gross men and the occasional woman. You also had to clean the rooms after patrons left. You feel sorry for one man on the second floor who’s been trapped in room 2B for what seems like ages. The owner and desk clerk, Mr. Harrison, tells you he’s been here months and seems to have a bowel problem. You can hear the man himself groaning in misery at mixed hours of the day. He won’t let anyone into the room to clean, not that you’re complaining. 

It’s May now. The air’s getting warmer, the days longer. You love this time of year. Wildflowers grow close to the roads, removing some of the livestock stench with their own perfumes, even though it doesn’t help much. You’ve just finished cleaning a room on the upper floor and you walk down the stairs. You’d like to get some breakfast in the saloon, but just as you’re heading for the door, Harrison stops you.

“Just had aman come in for a wash. Will you see if he needs anything?” 

You sigh and nod. At least the money you get from washing people is better than the ten cents you make as a daily wage. You knock on the door. “Need some help in there?” 

A gruff voice responds. You don’t recognize it. “Sure.” 

You sigh and straighten yourself up. Unlike some of your coworkers, you keep your blouse buttoned up. The other women say men are likely to pay a bit more money if you show your cleavage, but you didn’t think the money was worth being gawked at like that. Especially not when your hands were on them and you’d occasionally brush their groins to feel them hard. It was revolting, so you keep yourself dressed as normal as possible. 

When you walk in the door, you expect to see some filthy rancher with a horny look on his face. You did not expect the handsome, rugged cowboy sitting in the tub, his eyes closed in relaxation. He almost looks like he’s gone too long without a bath and he’s enjoying the hot water. You smile at him when he opens his eyes. 

“I’m gonna take good care of you,” you say, feeling optimistic about him. You sit on the edge of the tub and begin rubbing his back. He sighs, clearly enjoying your touch. You move to his arms, trying not to look at his broad, slightly hairy chest. He really is a handsome man and he’s got the right amount of hair on his chest and arms. 

“You new to these parts?” you ask. “No offense, I just ain’t seen you around here before. Definitely would have remembered you.” 

He blushes and lifts up his other arm. “Yeah. Stayin’ in a place not too far from here. Just got in a week ago.” 

You hum in response. He lifts his leg for you to wash. He watches your hand move over his leg. “Hmm, glad for this. Been a hard few days.” 

“What do you do?” you ask.

“Ah, I worked at a factory with some people and we just got laid off. Tryin’ to find work now.” 

“That’s too bad. Well, I hope you stay in town for sometime.” 

What is wrong with you? You haven’t ever flirted with patrons before. But this man’s so handsome, he’s exactly your type. Broad, tall, scruffy beard. Blue eyes that remind you of a clear stream. 

As he lowers his leg and lifts his other one, he says, “They sure don’t like strangers in this town.” 

You know what he means. People in this town are suspicious. You had a hard enough time when you first showed up, but you’ve been working here long enough people are generally accepting. “Yes and it’s too bad. We sure could use some new folk like you.” 

As you finish washing his leg, your hand slips up a bit further than you expected. You can’t see through the bubbles and you’re curious about his size. You feign washing him and brush against his cock, which is semi-hard, a typical response. He flinches a bit. 

“Sorry,” he says, embarrassed about his state. “I don’t want ya to think I’m a perve.” 

“Please,” you say, your cheeks pink. “You’re the first man who hasn’t said anything suggestive or tried to pinch my rear.”

He chuckles a bit, leaning back and lowering his leg. There’s something about this man. You’ve had men offer you extra money to give them handjobs and you’ve done it because the money was good, but you didn’t like it. You’re hoping this man will ask you for one, not because of the money but because he is handsome and he has treated you respectfully. 

“You, uh, need anything else?” you ask, trying not to sound forward. “You seem like you’re not quite relaxed yet. I can really help you there.” 

He opens his eyes. “What do you have in mind, miss?” 

“I can… help with your little problem.” 

He swallows. “You, uh, ain’t married, are ya?” 

You smile at him and shake your head. “Not with anyone either.” 

He smiles and leans his head back, closing his eyes. “Sure, I wouldn’t mind some extra help.” 

You smile and glide your hand up his leg, grabbing his length. He groans when you touch him and then you slowly begin to pump him. He grows hard quickly. You still can’t see much through the bubbles but from what you can feel, he’s well endowed. You can feel the thick vein that runs down his cock. You trace it, finding his head. You brush it, his length twitches in your hand. 

“Been a long time since you were touched, I take it?” you say. He just moans in response, his hands gripping the sides of the tub. You grin and continue pulling on him. It doesn’t take much longer before his hips begin to buck and then you feel his cock grow hot and then the tip bursts. 

“Sorry,” he says, his face flushed. “Didn’t mean to go off so quick.” 

“No worries,” you say. You smile at him when he looks at you. “To be honest, you lasted longer than I expected and I could tell you needed that.” 

“Hmm, how much I owe ya for that?” 

You bite your lip, feeling like a whore suddenly. “N-nothing, mister. That one’s on the house.” 

You kiss his head and then leave. The feeling vanishes quickly when you think about how he felt in your hand. A few moments later, he comes out of the washroom. God, he’s even hotter now than he was in the tub. He tips his hat to you and thanks you before exiting the door. 

The next day, the same man comes in. He tips his hat to you and pays for a bath. Once again, he invites you in when you ask if he needs help. A thrill of excitement shoots through your chest. You’d dreamt of him last night, not in any kind of sex scenario, but he’d been there and you enjoyed it. When you enter, you’re prepared to wash him but he stops you. 

“Ma’am, I hope ya don’t think I’m a perv or tryin’ to take advantage of you. But you did wonders for me yesterday. Like I said, this is a real stressful time for me and ya helped me a lot yesterday.” 

You smile. “Glad I could be of service. I’m certainly happy to help you out again.” You grab him again and begin working. He lasts a bit longer this time, but his bucking is slower, more controlled. You feel yourself getting turned on by watching his face as he’s bucking into your hand. Your hand was on his tip when he exploded, his warm seed rushing through your fingers. Not that you minded of course. 

It’s been over a week since the first time you washed him. He’s come in everyday since, asking for your magic touch. He thinks you’re beautiful and you know exactly how to touch him to make him feel amazing. He finds himself lucky to have found you. Over the days, you’ve gotten to know each other. He’s told you his name and that he’s not actually an ex factory worker, but an outlaw. This comes as a shock to you, but not for the reasons he suspects. In fact, you’re thrilled. Finally someone interesting has turned up and he just happens to be handsome and kind. He talks about his old dog sometimes and how much he misses him. For being a tough outlaw, he has such a soft spirit. 

“Don’t be fooled,” he said when you mentioned this as you stroked him. “These hands have killed, sweetheart.” 

He finds your little “meetings” therapeutic as well. Something about you makes him want to open up. He tells you a bit about the gang, the hardships that come from living in it. His son and how he and his mama were killed, how painful it was to see their graves. You cried when he told you this story. 

Arthur’s had an affect on you. It didn’t take long for you to have a sex dream about him. You’ve had them before with people you’ve never seen, but this one had been a good one. You want it to become true. Of course, there’s heavy repercussions for a bath girl to sleep with one of her clients. You could lose your job if you get caught. More and more though, you find yourself dreaming and even fantasizing about sleeping with him. All his secrets have been spilled at your feet (and into your hand), you just want to do the same with him. It sounds like he’s not properly appreciated in this gang he runs with and yet he works so hard. 

One day, as he’s just gotten settled and you knock on the door, you don’t even bother asking. However, you do unbutton the top of your blouse to reveal the tops of your breasts. You want to give him a bit of a show. 

When he sees you, his eyes go instantly to your chest. As soon as you touch him, you feel he’s already rock hard. You begin pumping him and his eyes close. 

“You really do have magic fingers,” he groans. “I ain’t exactly seen a lot of women, but… I don’t know, you do somethin’ special to me.” 

You smile. “Would you like to see me?”

His eyes open, his brow furrowed. “How do you mean?” 

You extract your hand from the warm water. He watches as your fingers trail up to your blouse and you unbutton it. You didn’t bother to put on a chemise this morning since you knew he’d be in. You slip your shirt open, exposing your breasts. His eyes stare at them and he swallows again. 

“You want to touch me?” you ask. “I won’t charge anything.” 

His hands fumble on the edge of the tub. You dip your hand back into the water and gingerly stroke his cock. His hand slips off the tub and finds your left breast. His hands are warm and calloused, which only adds to the pleasant sensation. His thumb flicks over your nipple and he licks his lips. You smile, blushing. Heat travels down between your legs. Oh, how you wish he’d touch you there, but you’re not quite ready for that yet, you don’t think. 

His hand studies your breasts, flicking between them. His hips begin to thrust as you pump him. He goes off rather quickly. 

“Sorry,” he says as he pinched your nipple while releasing. “You’re, well, you’re somethin’ special.” 

You blush and smile. “You want this to become a regular thing too?” 

He hesitates. “If… if you’re a’right with that.” 

You lean forward and kiss him on the head, giving him an eyefull of your chest. “Then expect it from now on, handsome.” 

Over the next few days, as soon as you enter the washroom, you remove your shirt. He’s become braver too, his hands instantly finding your nipples. Sometimes when one of his hands is on your breast and your hand’s on his cock, your other hand will find your other breast. He seems to like watching you touch yourself. 

It doesn’t take long before you start getting completely undressed for him. He finds your curves to be the sexiest thing. You know you’re risking your job by exposing yourself like this, but this man gets you heated like nothing else has ever done. 

One day, you enter the washroom and start stripping out of your clothes. You turn around and see he’s naked, but not in the tub. He fumbles with his hands for a moment. 

“What you doin’?” you ask, your hand stopping halfway through unbuttoning your blouse. 

“I uh, I feel a bit bad. I been takin’ advantage of ya all these days and ya ain’t charged me for none of it. I just… I wanna repay the favor.”

“What do you have in mind?” 

“Why don’t ya get in the tub and we’ll switch roles?” 

You smile and continue stripping. When you’re settled, Arthur washes your hair and then moves down to your arms, your legs. He’s gentle, his hands rough. You’re trembling by the time his hands reach your breasts. He strokes your nipples, making them perk up even more in the steamy air. Then one hand goes down and finds your folds. You gasp when his hand slips in and he tickles your clit. You spread your legs a bit more to give him more access. He rubs you slowly and then he slips a finger into your center, followed by another. 

“Oh Arthur,” you say, your eyes closed. He begins pushing his fingers in and out of you, his thumb stroking your clit. Your hips start thrusting in time with his movements. Within what feels like seconds, something blooms in your stomach and then goes down to your legs and bursts. You tilt your head back and groan loudly, though you try to keep it down so Harrison won’t hear. 

No man has ever made you orgasm before. You’ve only slept with two men before and both of them took care of themselves, leaving you half hot. You’d had to take care of yourself afterwards. But Arthur, oh Arthur. You’re not even having sex and he’s got you turning into jelly into his hand. 

“More,” you find yourself panting. He chuckles and continues tickling your clit, his fingers slipping into you and then pulling out only to go back in. His free hand finds your nipple again and he tweaks it. He touches and rubs you more and more, applying just the right pressure until you’re exploding into his hand again. 

“Wow,” you say, your limbs feeling limp. “Thank you, Mr. Morgan. But let me take care of you now. After all, you’re the patron.” 

Before he can say anything, you’re climbing out of the top and on top of him. You kiss him and he lays down on the floor. You grip his shoulders and his hands weave into your hair. You straddle his hips and grab his hard cock. He’s never been more firm, not even that time you licked his chest and neck. You guide him into your entrance. His length spreads your walls. He feels so good. 

You sit up, letting him stare at your breasts, and then you begin to bounce, swirling your hips on his. He groans and grabs your thighs, spreading them even more as he sinks deeper into you. His hips begin bucking into you and he brushes your spot. You groan loudly and his right hand slips from your thigh and back to your slit. He tickles your swollen nub. Your hands plant onto his chest as he thrusts up into you.

It doesn’t take long before you feel that bubble expand again. His cock brushes against your spot in time with his hand rubbing your clit and you’re done for. You bite your lip to prevent you from making any sound (though you might end up biting your lip off). He pumps harder and faster, his cock rooting around inside you. Only seconds after you come down from your high, he quickly pulls out and releases onto your stomach. He looks at the mess with loving eyes. 

“Damn, girl,” he grunts. “You really know what you’re doin’.” 

“I’ll say, but I ain’t the only one with magic fingers, Mr. Morgan.” You bend down and kiss him again.


	38. Forbidden Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Wishing you were my Arthur right now, lol. Omg, can write something like that? Arthur is taken by another woman and reader wishes she's that woman. A forbidden love kind of thing? I don't want him to be a cheater but I like to think it's natural for him to also wish he'd rather date the reader but can't. If that's too much, then do the first part? I'm sorry! 😦

You stand on the edge of Horseshoe Overlook, enjoying your morning coffee. An eagle soars overhead, swirling in lazy circles in the gentle breeze. This place is beautiful, Hosea couldn’t have picked a better spot. 

You hear the sound of a horse coming up the trail behind you. Looking over to your left, you see Arthur’s horse coming up the hill with the man himself astride it. Behind him sits Mary, her arms wound around him. You wrinkle your nose in disgust as though she were a bad smell, but you go back to drinking your coffee and pretending you didn’t see them. 

Arthur knows you did, of course. He’s horribly aware that everyone’s eyes are on him and Mary. He hadn’t expected to get back together with her, it’d been the last thing he thought would happen when he received her letter. He helped her brother, of course he did. Arthur was just the kind of man to help anyone in need unless they gave him a reason not to. When he’d brought Jamie back to Mary, she’d clasped his hands and kissed him. 

“Oh Arthur,” she’d said, “I’ve missed you more than I can say. You know I… I only married Barry because it was what daddy wanted, but he’s dead now. I’m willin’ to take another chance with you if you’ll have me.” 

Arthur’s heart felt ripped in two when she’d said this to him. There was a part of him that was overjoyed, but another part that wanted to cringe and tell her to leave him alone. Deep down he knew if things hadn’t worked the first time, they wouldn’t this time. He’d only end up with a broken heart again. Not only that, he’d had his eye on you for some time. 

Although you’ve only been with the gang a few months, about as long as Charles and Micah, you and Arthur clicked immediately. It didn’t take long for you two to develop a crush on one another, but neither of you would act upon it. Arthur was handsome and too good for you. A man like him would certainly never go for you. You didn’t blame him either. Hell, you wouldn’t be interested in you. Arthur felt the same way about himself when it came to you. He saw himself as nothing more than a killer, a robber. A bad man. No way could someone as sweet and gentle as you want to be seen with a man like himself. No, Mary was what he deserved, he told himself. 

Ever since Arthur and Mary got back together, he’s been going off to see her more often. Since she already knew about the gang, no one had any qualms about him bringing her to camp, even though many of them didn’t like her. You aren’t a fan either. Sure, Mary’s pretty, smart and strong. But she’s not unique in that aspect. Mary-Beth’s smart, Tilly’s pretty and Karen could knock Mary’s teeth out if she wanted to. What they didn’t have that Mary did was her ego. It was clear to you upon first meeting her that she saw herself as better than everyone in the gang, Arthur included. It was just the way she talked to them, how she would never invite anyone to start a conversation. Most of the time when she was in camp, she acted like she didn’t want to be and she’d beg Arthur to go somewhere else with her. You had to bite your tongue, feeling sure she was dragging him off someplace to have some mind-blowing sex, which did nothing to lighten your mood. 

It wasn’t just the way Mary talked to you and the others in the gang that made you hate her. Most of it was how she talked to Arthur, always putting him down in some way. Once you’d been passing his tent when she’d been in there with him and it was clear she was trying to get him to do something he didn’t want to do. “I shoulda had you hung years ago. You’ll never change, Arthur.” 

That made you want to go in there and rip her hair out. How dare she threaten him that way? Did she talk to her late husband in the same manner? You doubt it, as he was likely a law-abiding man. You argued that following laws set by a bunch of men didn’t make people good. Hell, you grew up in a law-abiding family and most of the people during that part of your life treated you and everyone else like shit. Here, in this gang of outlaws and criminals, you’ve never known such a tight-knit family. Everyone looks out for one another. Sure, people argue and fight, but they’re still family and the whole gang would be moved to action if a single person was in danger. 

Arthur knows the gang isn’t happy to see Mary riding behind him. He dismounts and helps her off. He wants nothing more than to rip his arm out of her grasp. He regrets getting back into this relationship with her. He’s always had a low opinion of himself, but being with her has made him realize how truly horrible he is. He wonders why someone as good as her could want to be with him. He spots you by the cliff, drinking coffee in the morning light. You look so beautiful. What he wouldn’t give to be standing by your side, your hand wrapped around his arm instead of Mary’s. But that can never be. You’re too perfect for him. 

He sidles over to his tent with Mary. Dutch gives him a tense nod. He clearly wants to talk with Arthur, likely about a job, but he holds his tongue when Mary’s around. He knows, along with everyone else, that if she doesn’t like even the slightest thing, she could very easily go running off to the sheriff and turn them all in. That’s the only reason why her presence is tolerated, that and out of respect for Arthur. Arthur’s not a fool though, he knows most people walk on eggshells when she’s around. He doesn’t bring her to camp often, only whenever he needs to talk to someone or pick up something and then he heads off somewhere else with her. 

Arthur’s here to just drop off some fish to Pearson now. He’d suggested fishing when he picked up Mary. She hadn’t wanted to do it as she found it boring, but Arthur wanted to make sure his people had something to eat tonight. She’d relented at that. You eye her across camp now. Why can she not see how good of a man Arthur is? He’d break his own back if he had to for the gang. She’s not good enough for him, which means you’re definitely not either. Hell, you’ve committed almost enough crimes to get as heavy a bounty as Arthur, including murder. You go back to your cold coffee, though you’ve lost all interest. 

Before Arthur had gotten back with Mary, you two were becoming close friends. He took you out on a lot of hunting trips and you were sure one time he almost kissed you. It’d been under a tree and you’d been caught by a sudden rainstorm. Soaking wet and slightly cold, you both huddled under the tree, wrapped around each other to stay warm. Your faces had been inches apart and you desperately wanted to press your lips to his, but you wouldn’t. You couldn’t destroy your friendship with him like that, your desires weren’t worth it. You’d rather have him in your life as a friend than not at all because you couldn’t keep your crush to yourself. 

It broke your heart when he’d shown up in camp with Mary the first time and when people asked, he’d announced why she was there. You’d heard enough about her before to know she only used him for her own gains and then always tossed him aside when he was no longer useful. At least that’s what the others said. Hosea told you a bit about what their first relationship was like and why it hadn’t worked. So when Arthur showed up, his arm in her hand and a big smile on his face, you started pulling away from him. You had to in order to protect himself. 

It hurt Arthur when you did that. You no longer went hunting or fishing with him, he stopped asking you to help him on small jobs. He understood why you did, most of the others changed towards him too when he brought Mary in. It just made him regret taking her back all that much more. He wanted to end things with her already, but she had some sort of pull on him. Whenever he thought about leaving, she seemed to sense it and she’d kiss him and fawn over him and make him think things might be okay, then she’d slip back into her habits of insulting him. 

Arthur couldn’t even say that the sex was good enough for him to stay, it wasn’t happening at all. Mary had a firm stance against premarital sex. He respected her wishes, of course, he was easily capable of taking care of himself if he needed to. However, when he was with Mary, he felt no desire to be with her intimately. He used to when they were first dating, but things had ended so badly that he blamed his lack of interest on that. A voice from a dark corner of his mind told him that he wasn’t attracted to her because he wanted you. He shoved that voice out of his mind though, he’d already told himself he wasn’t going after you. He wouldn’t ruin your life like that. 

He drops the fish off to Pearson and as he turns away to go back to Mary, he bumps into you as you’d been going back to put your coffee tin in the water barrel. 

“Sorry, Y/N,” he says. 

“No, it’s okay, Arthur,” you say, quickly looking away. “You, uh, heading off with Mary again?” You try keeping the accusations from your voice. 

He shuffles his feet a bit. “Uh, yeah. She wants to go see one of them movin’ pictures, I guess.” 

“I see. Well, have fun.” You turn away quickly before he can say anything else. He realizes he genuinely misses you. Whenever he needed to talk, you were always there and easy to talk to. Not only that, you were always telling jokes, making him laugh. Your cool, easy-going temperament was infectious to him and he found himself becoming more steady and less angry in your presence. Now that he rarely gets to see you, he finds he’s gotten more angry again. He runs up behind you, calling your name softly. 

“Y/N, I just wanted to ask ya somethin’. Would, uh, would ya wanna go on a huntin’ trip with me soon? Pearson’s getting low again and, well, you’re a good shot. What you think?”

You’ve kept a steady gaze on him but when he’s done you glance over at Mary. Is that all you are to him, just a steady shot? “I don’t know, Arthur. Grimshaw’s keeping me pretty busy.” That’s a downright lie. Sure, Grimshaw’s been breathing down your neck, but no more than she always has and no more than she’s done with the other girls. “Besides, Arthur, what would Mary say if she found out you went out for three days alone with another girl? If I were her, I’d be suspicious.” 

Arthur sighs and knows what you mean. He can’t have friends who happen to be women with Mary. Because of him being a criminal she’d suspect him of being a cheater too. “Right, o-of course. Well, just thought I’d ask. Looked like ya might need to get some time away from this camp.” 

He walks back to Mary, looking miserable. He’s right, you do need a break from this camp. You’re tired, tired of Grimshaw’s barking and Dutch constantly screaming about faith and his plans. Tired of Pearson’s same stew every night, tired of everything here. You’ve missed the hunting trips with Arthur more than you thought possible. Your lip trembles as he walks away. You goddamn fool, you think. He’s just trying to help you and you can’t get over your jealousy.

Shortly after Arthur leaves with Mary, you decide to head out of camp too. Pearson gives you a shopping list, so you jump on the opportunity. You sidle into Valentine’s shop and give the shopkeeper your list. He snaps at a shopboy who starts gathering things and putting them into the wagon you drove here. As you’re browsing the shelves, the front door opens and Arthur walks in.

“Oh, hi Y/N,” he says, coming over. “You doin’ a’right?” 

You nod. “Pearson just needed some things. Is uh, Mary outside waiting?” 

He sighs and looks out the window. “Yeah, she is. I just needed to buy some provisions. I gotta go huntin’, with or without you. Camp’s gotta eat somehow.” 

Your gut clenches with a bit of guilt. “I see. You takin’ Mary with you?” 

“No. No she’s never shot a gun. I’ve offered to teach her how but she says she’ll be damned before she touches a gun. Says if she does it’s a slippery slope to turnin’ into one of the other girls from camp.” 

Your face flushes with anger. She really does think herself better than the rest of the gang just because she’s never robbed anybody. Yet here she is, abusing Arthur and judging everybody else. 

“Why are you with her, Arthur?” you ask before you can stop yourself. “I don’t have a lot of experience with dating, but I’d find it difficult to be with anyone who could so easily insult those I called family.”

Arthur dips his head, hiding his eyes. “It’s complicated, Y/N.”

“No, it’s not. Someone who can insult your family so easily can’t hold much respect for you. Seriously, why do you let her treat you this way?” 

“Why do you care?” he snaps. “It ain’t none of your business.You don’t know Mary, I pulled some bad crap towards her when I was young. She’s got her reasons for being the way she is.” 

“That doesn’t mean you have to put up with it, Arthur. Your relationship with her won’t work if she’s got no respect for you. No healthy relationship can last without it.”

“Like I said, Y/N, why do you care?” His eyes bore into yours, the blue turning cold. You swallow nervously. 

“I guess I don’t care, Arthur,” you snap. “You be with her if it’s what makes you happy. I won’t bother you anymore.” 

Before he can say anything, you push past him and march out the doors. You throw Mary a dirty look and get into the cart and go back to camp. She ignores you, though it’s obvious she’d seen. 

Later that night when Arthur comes into camp, alone this time, you completely ignore him. It’s obvious to you at this point that he doesn’t want you interfering with his life in even the smallest way, so you won’t go digging around in his business any longer. He wants Mary to treat him like the tread of her boot? Fine, let him. He walks over to you at the fire and gently calls your name, wanting to talk things through. He wanted so desperately to admit to you that he’s miserable with Mary, but you’d walked out before he could say anything. When he calls to you though, you pointedly ignore him. He gets the message and goes to his cot. 

In the morning, Arthur approaches you near Pearson’s fire where you’re pouring a cup of coffee.

“Y/N, can I talk to ya?” he said. He’d spent half the night lying awake, trying to think of how he can talk to you about Mary. He knows this fling with her can’t last much longer, but he’s afraid the more he tries to escape, the tighter she’ll hold onto him. 

You straighten up and look at him. “Why do you want to talk to me?” you say sharply. “Thought you wanted me to have no part in your business.” 

He hangs his head again. “I-I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to get so defensive yesterday, I always do when it comes to her. But look, I… I really need to talk to someone about this whole thing with Mary.” 

“Hmm, well, go talk to Hosea. He’s good with advice.” You start walking away. You’re still stung by his words from yesterday.

“Y/N, please,” he says loudly after you’ve only taken a few steps. You can hear the pain in his voice. You sigh and turn around to look at him.

“Why?” you say, softer this time. “Why the hell would you want me to hear about anything going on in your life, Arthur?” 

He takes a few steps closer to you. “Because I know I can tell ya anythin’, Y/N, and you won’t judge me for it. Just please, give me a few minutes and then I won’t bother ya anymore.” 

That stings again. Here you were thinking you’d been bothering him. “Okay, Arthur.” 

You go into the trees with him and almost to the main trail leading to Valentine. Arthur stops there, staring off down the path to the river. He’s silent for a few moments, and you are too. You want him to be the one who speaks up first since this is his problem. 

“Yesterday when ya said I should stay with her if I was happy, I wanted to tell you that I’m not. Not happy, that is. I don’t know what it is, but that woman knows exactly how to play me. Whenever I pull away in the slightest, she reels me back in. I don’t know what to do, Y/N.” 

“You think I do?” you say quickly. “I don’t know a thing about her, except what gossip has been tossed around camp since you started bringing her around and I don’t know how much of that is true.” 

He sighs. “I know, and I got no business draggin’ ya into my problems. But, Y/N,” he turns to you and reaches for your hand. “I’ve missed havin’ ya around. I always knew I could tell ya anythin’, that I could be honest and open. I can’t do that with Mary. Seems we always fight whenever I tell her even a shred about my life.” 

“I’m sure, I uh, heard her the other day saying she should’ve turned you in years ago. Has she always been like that?” 

“Not always. In the beginning, all them years ago, she weren’t. But then I… we were gonna get married and then her awful daddy got involved. After that, I did some stuff for the gang that caused some attention and it made her mad. She left me after that, said some bad things too. Told her after that I wanted nothin’ with her no more.” 

“So why did she call on you a few weeks ago? If she knew things were over between you…” 

“Well, her husband passed away and she needed someone to help her brother. He got involved with some religious bunch of crazies.” 

“Ah, so she needed someone scary enough to go after him and you’re the most frightening person she knows.” 

“Guess that about sums it up,” he says. You look down at your joined hands and squeeze a little. 

“You’d think with her seeing you as this violent, scary person, she’d be a little less belittling.”

Arthur sighs and looks down the path again. 

“She used to know how kind you can be, didn’t she?” you say, realizing what his silence means. He looks down and nods. 

“I really loved her, Y/N, but when things ended between us and I learned she married another man, it broke my heart. I never wanted nothin’ to do with her. But when she wrote to me and asked for help, I couldn’t say no. I owed it to her. Guess I was hopin’ I could fix one of my many mistakes.” 

“And now she has you completely wrapped around your fingers.” You let go of his hand and cross your arms over your chest. “How long will this run last, Arthur? How long before you end up doing something real stupid that finally pushes her over the edge and she decides it’s over? Or worse, how long before you decide to marry her?” 

His eyes shoot up to yours. “I don’t wanna marry her, Y/N. I’d have to love her to wanna do that.” 

“So then why are you with her? If you don’t love her, end the relationship!” 

“I want to, but like I said, she’s got some kind of hold of me. I… I want nothin’ more than to end it. Truth is, there’s someone else I’d rather be with. But she’s way too good for me.” 

“Who?” you say, genuinely perplexed. “Mary-Beth? Know she’s got a bit of a thing for you. Don’t tell me you’re thinking of Karen, she’s with Sean and they fit together. Tilly, she’s cute. Can be a little scary-”

You didn’t see the way he smiled when you started rambling about the girls, but when he saw you weren’t going to stop, he put a hand behind your head and pulled you to him, your lips meeting. You’re stunned into silence, but just when he starts to pull away, your hands grip his shoulders, keeping you to him. Something in your chest purrs, a hunger you didn’t even know was there begins to melt away. He smells good, like grass and pine, old leather and tobacco leaves. His lips are slightly chapped and warm, God are they warm. His arm winds around your back and you clasp the back of his head, sinking deeper into the kiss. 

Finally, after what feels like years, you break off, slightly breathless. You stare up at Arthur, his cheeks rosy. He smiles a bit but then it fades. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I never meant for ya to get involved in all this crap.” 

You stare into his beautiful blue eyes. Your hand goes to his cheek, his jaw lightly stubbled. “Don’t be, Arthur. I’ve…” It’s your turn to blush. “I’ve dreamt about what it would be like to kiss you for ages, never thought it would be that good.” 

He smiles and leans forward to kiss you again. You want to so bad, but you stop him. “Arthur, we shouldn’t. Not until this Mary business is sorted out. I don’t like her, but it’s not fair to her.” 

He sighs and pulls away, nodding. “You’re right. Well, I’m supposed to go see her later today. Come with me, Y/N. I’m gonna tell her things are over.” 

You nod and smile. “Of course I will. Hell, if I have to kiss you in order to get her to leave you alone, I certainly will. I’ll take any opportunity to do that again.” 

His grin makes your heart flutter. A few hours later, you’re going along the trail with him to where Mary’s staying. She doesn’t live in Valentine, she’s just staying with a family friend in a little farmhouse just outside the town. 

Arthur steps onto the porch with you by his side and knocks on the door. A moment later, Mary opens it. Her eyes meet yours for a moment before she goes back to him. She’s certainly worked hard to make herself look prettier, even applying powder to her face and her hair plaited down her back. 

“Hello, Arthur.” 

“Mary. I um, I think you and I need to talk.” 

She glances at you again and then steps out, closing the door behind her. “May we do this in private, Arthur?” 

He looks at you a second and you nod, going back to the horses where you can see them but can’t hear them. You pretend to brush your horse when really you’re watching them. Arthur takes off his hat and says something, but his back is to you so you can’t tell what he’s saying. You can guess based off Mary’s face. Her hands clasp together and her brows furrow. She says something, looking confused and angry. Arthur responds and then she walks away from him to the other side of the porch, looking almost like she’s searching for an answer. She turns around and says something to him, Arthur shakes his head. He puts his hat on and then walks down the stairs, towards you. Mary puts her hands on the rails of the porch and hollers, “I shoulda had you hung years ago, Arthur Morgan!” 

You throw down your brush and march up the porch to her. “What the fuck is the matter with you? You treat everyone this way when they make you mad?” 

“I don’t know you,” she says, her face clearing. 

“Well you can know me from now on as Arthur’s girl, and I ain’t letting some snotty brat talk to my man like that. If you ever send a letter to him begging for his help, I will come to you and I will put a bullet between those pretty eyes, you got me?” 

Mary swallows. She looks over to Arthur, who seems stunned by your response.

“I didn’t mean… I just….” 

“You were just trying to manipulate him, you ass,” you say. “You don’t love him. Maybe you did once, but now he’s just something for you to play with and control. Well, it may come as a shock to you, Mary, but Arthur’s a person! Just because he’s an outlaw doesn’t mean he’s incapable of feeling. If you mention him or any of my family to anyone, I will destroy your entire life.” You spit at her feet for good measure and then march down stairs. When you get to Arthur, you stretch up and kiss him on the cheek. When you look back at Mary, she’s burst into tears. 

“Did you really have to do that?” he huffs softly in your ear as you go to your horses. 

“Had to get the message across, didn’t I? Now how about you and I go somewhere and have a proper first kiss?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated! If you like what you read, leave a kudos!


	39. Arthur x hispanic reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User askes: What's up? I have a request for you. This was inspired by a Red Dead 2 photographer over at Instagram ( @rdr2allisvanity) . There's these few pictures where they have Arthur with this Hispanic woman. ( probably the saloon woman in Valentine?) Can you write a one shot or whatever the proper term for it is of him and Hispanic fem. Reader falling in love at first sight?

(Arthur doesn’t have TB in this scenario) 

Arthur bends down, picking a flower from the patch of vegetation made of mostly sage brush and some kind of prickly bush. The flower stands out pink in the harsh New Austin sun. He smiles, he’s seen this kind before but he never had the chance to stop and truly admire it. That’s just another one of the perks of living here.

The gang fell apart many months ago. Dutch left Arthur to die on that mountain top after he was beaten nearly to death by Micah. Somehow he managed to recover from the beating. His broken heart was a different matter though. All that work, all the sacrifices he made, they all meant nothing in the end. Or at least that’s what he believed. At least John made it out okay. 

Not knowing what else to do, Arthur went back to the only place that made sense to him: the west. When he got to Armadillo, however, he developed some kind of infection in his chest. It caused him to cough hard and one day, the sun had been too intense and the coughing too harsh. He’d passed out in the dirt and that’s when you found him. You had a small cottage near the cliffs just northwest of Armadillo. It was a small home but the view was to die for as it swept over the entire valley. On clear days, you could see all the way to the San Luis River. 

You nursed Arthur back to health. The spices you put in his food from your home country at first seemed to do him harm as he coughed even harder, but it turned out they were helping him clear out whatever was causing him to be sick. You enjoyed his company (and also had a massive crush on him almost from the very beginning) so when he recovered, you invited him to stay as long as he liked. He was grateful for it as he still had no idea where he wanted to go or what to do. 

He felt an attraction to you too from early on. Your dark intelligent eyes and your thick black hair. He’d never seen a woman like you before, even though you felt you were quite average. It didn’t take long for you both to subtly flirt with one another, and then one rainy day, while you’d both been out watching the horses and cattle graze, something in the air sizzled and you kissed him. Your love for him only grew from that day on. 

Arthur walks in now with the flower in his hand. His tanned skin shines lightly in the glow of the fire as you’re making tortillas. He had tortillas many times before he met you, but he thinks yours are the best as you make them fresh everyday. 

He blushes a little when you smile at him. For such a tough outlaw, he sure gets flustered easily. 

“Hello, Y/N,” he says. 

“Hola, Arthur. How was your walk?” 

He smiles again. He likes to walk everyday after finishing his work with your small herd of cattle. He does it so he can fully take in the beauty around him and how lucky he is. His past still haunts him, the people he had to kill, the crimes he committed. He still doesn’t believe he deserves any of this, or you for that matter. 

“Ah, it was a’right. Here, found this. Thought ya might like it.” He pulls out the flower from his satchel and hands it to you. Your smile will definitely be something he’ll draw later in his journal. 

“Ah, I always loved these,” you say, smelling it lightly after taking it from him. You put it in a small vase and set it on the table by the window where it will get lots of sunlight. 

When you turn around, Arthur’s right next to you. He smiles and wraps his arms around you. This isn’t unusual for him, though it’s hard to predict when he’ll do this. He loves the physical contact with you as he so rarely got it before. You press your cheek to his chest, his heart drumming in your ear. His hands thumb over the long braid going down your back. When you look up, his lips press to your forehead. 

“I love ya, darlin’. Lord knows why you took me in, a poor lonesome cowboy, but I’m glad ya did.” 

“Oh hush, Arthur. You’re not as bad as you think you are. I’ve seen you. There’s a good man in there.” 

He smiles and kisses your lips this time. He doesn’t know how to tell you how grateful he is to have you in his life, so he just holds you close to him, hoping you feel it too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you read, leave a kudos! Comments are a writer's bread and butter!


	40. Blushing reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hello! I have a request to make. Can you write Arthur flirting with a very shy reader who ends up hiding and avoiding him but loves it deep down throughout the day? He's being no help though, finding her demeanor adorable and goes after her to see her blush some more by teasing.

You finish hanging up the shirt you’d just washed so it can dry in the early afternoon sun. It’s a beautiful day at Horseshoe Overlook. The sun’s been out all day but it’s not too hot. You’ll take this any day over the frozen misery of Colter. You’ll be happy if you don’t have to see the snow again for a long time. 

Just as you head over to Pearson’s wagon to get a drink, Arthur trots up on his horse. Your eyes find him instantly and he beams at you, waving. He’s done that every time he returns since Colter. You blush and return the wave quickly before scurrying off. Something about Arthur gives you butterflies. 

Out of all the gang members, Arthur’s the man you’re closest too. It probably has something to do with that event in Colter, but you only dare remember that in your dreams. It’d been too perfect, but Arthur changed towards you after that, for the better. Before, he’d been just as friendly with you as he was with the other girls, but now he’s… no, you sternly say to yourself. He’s not flirting with you. No way in hell is Arthur Morgan flirting with you. 

Throughout the day while he’s in camp though, he seems to pop up whenever you move from one area of camp to the next. When you went from Pearson’s wagon to your own tent to get something, he’d been at Dutch’s tent, talking to him. He’d tipped his hat to you and smiled, again making you blush. When you went to the main campfire, he walked past you and it seemed like he purposely bumped into your shoulder. Not hard, but enough to gently push you. “Sorry, Y/N,” he said, catching your arm. “Gotta watch where I’m walkin’.” He gave your arm a gentle squeeze before walking off. 

By afternoon, you’re helping Pearson make dinner. Arthur and John walk past. They stop a few feet from the wagon and you can hear them talking. They seem to be deciding the best way to rob a stage with some wealthy people riding up from Blackwater. 

“I say we just do the usual approach, Arthur,” John says, his back to you. “Just point some guns at ‘em, they’ll throw all their money our way. These soft city people ain’t got much spunk.” 

“Yeah, but then they’ll talk,” Arthur counters. “I’ve robbed enough rich folk to know that merely scarin’ ‘em ain’t gonna keep them off your back long. I suggest we take one of the girls, have her put on an act. Make the stage stop, distract ‘em while we rob ‘em blind.”

“Well which one of the girls?” John asks. “Mary-Beth is always a good choice, but there ain’t no one who plays the lost little girl like Karen.” 

Arthur’s eyes brush over to you briefly. He’s got one hand on his gun belt. He couldn’t look more attractive if he tried. “I say Y/N. I bet she knows how to do the act just fine. Y/N!” he calls you over. 

You blush again and walk over, feeling quite small to the men. “Yes?” 

John looks at you, almost as though wondering if you’ll do, but Arthur smiles softly at you. “You wanna help us on a job?” he asks.

“Sure. Is it that stage you’ve been talking about the last two days?” 

“Sure is,” John says, walking over to the horses. “Come on you two, mount up and let’s go rob these bastards.” 

Just as you’re about to hop onto your horse, Arthur stops you. “I was thinkin’... you should put on the injured woman act on the trail. Best way to pull it off is if you ride my horse.” 

You can feel your cheeks burning. “O-oh, that’s okay, Mr. Morgan. I’d hate to be a burden.” 

“Ain’t a burden, miss, I’m the one offerin’. Come on, it’ll be fine.” He hops into his saddle and then offers his arm expectantly. You’re not sure how to tell him no so you just grab his arm and he swings you up behind him. Hesitating a bit, you wrap your arms around his body. Damn, he’s firm but warm. He turns his horse with a soft click and then canters up to meet John. You bury your face in his back to keep the wind out of your face. Little do you know he’s swimming in the joys of having your arms around him. There isn’t a thing he wouldn’t give to put his arms around you too. 

The trip is relatively short as the men take the horses just south of Flatneck Station. There, Arthur helps you dismount. He and John give you instructions on how to stop the stage and then they disappear into the trees. Feeling inspired and determined to do this job properly to impress Arthur, you sit down and roll around in the dirt a bit to make your clothes dirty to make it look like you’ve fallen from your horse. 

Not long after, a stage approaches from the south end of the trail. You hold your arm up and wave to the driver. 

“Oh please sir, could you help me?” you say from the ground. “My horse got spooked by a snake and threw me.” 

The stage miraculously stops. “Anything broken, ma’am?” the driver asks as his two passengers peak out. They’re both women, finely dressed with broad hats on their heads, colorful plumes waving lazily in the breeze. 

“I don’t think so, but my leg’s numb. I know Flatneck ain’t too far from here, could you give me a ride there and I can grab a train home?” 

The driver looks back at his passengers, who nod. He gets down and helps you up, although you put on quite the show of having an injured leg. You see John and Arthur quietly approaching the back of the stage where the luggage is. You’re almost standing and the driver’s about to turn and see them, so you pretend to take a bad step and fall to the ground again, knowing how ridiculous you must look. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir. Guess my leg’s worse than I thought. This is real embarassin’.” 

“That’s alright, ma’am. Come on, let’s get you up.” Arthur gives you the thumbs up and then he and John run off the trail and out of sight. You stop putting on nearly as strong of an act and let the driver guide you into the stage. Inside, you thank the two women and the stage goes down the road. After only a few moments, it stops and the driver helps you onto the platform of Flatneck Station. Arthur and John walk up on their horses, acting like two innocent travellers. 

You thank the driver. “Oh I wish I could pay you somehow for your kindness, but I’ve only enough money for a ticket home. Perhaps this will suffice?” you reach up and kiss his cheek. The man smiles. 

“That’ll do, ma’am, you stay safe ya hear?” He climbs back up onto the stage and whips the horses, riding off down the trail. You make a show of waving the two women off. Once they’re out of sight, you run over to Arthur and John, beaming. “Did you get it?”

Arthur grins. “That we did. That was one hell of a show.” He slides off his horse and walks over to you. 

“I’ll see you two in camp,” John says heavily. “I promised Abigail I’d go into town, pick something up. That woman…” He rides off before finishing, leaving you alone with Arthur. 

“So, should we actually get a train home?” you ask Arthur, feeling quite self conscious. You’ve never fully appreciated just how big Arthur really is. 

He smiles. “Nah, I’s thinkin’ we could just ride back on home. That’s if you don’t need nothin’ else? We could go somewhere if ya want.” 

Is Arthur really offering to take you somewhere? He’s never offered this to any of the other girls, even when he heard them complaining about being stuck in camp. 

“I… only if you don’t mind, Arthur, I know you got a lot going on.” 

“Ah, that stuff can wait. I got time to spend on ya.” He hides his eyes beneath his hat, a soft pink touching his cheeks. You’re blushing too of course. You know exactly how rough and even scary Arthur can be, you’ve seen it. You never knew he could be so sweet and generous though. 

“Okay. I wouldn’t mind seeing that moving picture in Valentine. Heard some folks talkin’ about it the other day,” you say. “Only if you don’t mind, of course.” 

“Nah, I won’t mind as long as you don’t mind ridin’ on my horse again.” 

Your face must look sunburned at this point, you’ve no doubt. “I don’t mind in the slightest.” 

He nods and mounts up again, lifting you up behind him. He doesn’t gallop to Valentine like you expected he would. Instead, he walks his horse there. When you point out it’ll take a lot longer, he doesn’t seem to mind. “Unless you’re in a rush,” he adds. 

“Of course not, Mr. Morgan.” 

“Arthur. Call me Arthur, miss. You been runnin’ with us long enough, ya can drop the formalities.” 

“Okay, but only as long as you stop callin’ me miss.” 

He chuckles. Along the way, you both talk. You’re finding it incredibly easy to be open with him, you tell him things you haven’t told another person before. He doesn’t judge you though, and he tells you about his own past as well and how he feels about things. You can’t help but trust him. 

When you finally get to Valentine, he helps you off his horse again and then leads you up to the ticket vendor. The boy there charges him fifty cents for two tickets. 

“Oh no, I can pay for my own seat, Arthur,” you say but he slams down the money and winks at you.

“Arthur, you really shouldn’t have paid for me,” you say as he walks you over to the tent. Just before reaching the entrance, he stops you. 

“I wanted to, Y/N. But… well, there is a way you can repay me for this.” 

“How’s that?” 

His cheeks are red and he smiles a bit. “Same way you paid the stage driver.” 

Your heart skips a beat. Kissing the stage driver had been nothing, he was just a stranger. But this is Arthur Morgan. You’ve only had a crush on him for weeks now. How you imagined it would feel to have his hands on yours, to feel his lips caress your skin. You blink, you’re getting ahead of yourself. He’s just merely asking for a kiss on the cheek, it’s not like he’s asking you to strip down or touch him inappropriately. 

You smile, trying to calm yourself down. “I can do that.” You reach up, but just as you’re about to kiss his cheek, he turns his head and his lips meet yours. You freeze at the contact and then quickly pull away. “S-sorry! I must have twitched!” you say. You must have.

He chuckles, his whole face red. “Did that feel like a twitch? Nah, sorry. I been wantin’ to do that for some time now. Hope… hope you don’t mind.” 

You smile at him. “Not as much as you think. Should we go see this motion picture?” 

He gestures for you to go in front of him. Once seated, you make sure to stay close to him. He seems stiff, like he feels bad about the kiss. You’re desperate for another one though, but it seems like he won’t make a move first this time. When the movie starts, you ignore it. You grab his arm and wind it behind you. He looks at you curiously in the darkness. Before he can whisper anything, you kiss him on the lips again. You’re glad it’s dark, he can’t see how much your entire face is burning. You hesitate in the kiss and then dive back into it with much more enthusiasm. His arms wrap around you, his hands tangling into your hair. You’re practically on top of him, but you don’t care. 

“Shhhhh!” a voice suddenly hisses from two rows up. You break apart and look, but whoever shushed you is staring at the screen again. You’re quite embarrassed now. Arthur’s hand rubs up your back. 

“Come on, darlin’,” he whispers in your ear. “How about we go somewhere we won’t be a distraction?” 

You bite your lip and smile before standing up, his hand in yours. You lead him towards the bright opening. Lord only knows where this encounter with Arthur Morgan will lead, but you’re excited to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you read, leave a kudos! Comments are my bread and butter!


	41. Quite the show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hi, how are you? Can you write Arthur taking reader out to the theatre( instead of Mary) and maybe have touch each other inappropriately, making them constantly look around to not be spotted as the show continues in front of them?

You walk down the street, hand in hand with Arthur. The proud buildings of Saint Denis stand around you. Arthur brought you here in order to get you both away from camp as a treat. Now that Jack’s back, everyone can settle down (or at least as much as camp ever can). You and he haven’t been out on a date in what seems like forever, so Arthur decided to bring you here. He offered that whatever you wanted to do, you could do. 

You haven’t been to a city this large in many years. You’ve been living out in the country for a long time and you’ve forgotten the noise and the stench of cities. Those are aspects you surely haven’t missed, but there are parts of the city you find yourself enjoying. You love the architecture of the buildings, the swirling columns and the proud statues standing as monuments. 

Arthur guides you down the main street, your horses tied up near the hotel. You wanted to just walk down the street to take it all in. He obliged with a big smile, clearly enjoying your company. You glance down a street and see what must be a park on the right side and a tall white building across from it. There’s a large lit up sign above the door, but you can’t see what it says. 

“What is that?” you ask. Arthur follows where you’re pointing. 

“Oh, that’s a theatre. Saw it when we came to see that Bronte feller.” 

“A theatre? We should go!” you say excitedly. “I haven’t seen one in years!” 

Arthur chuckles. “A’right, sweetheart. We can go.” 

He guides you down the street, his hand still wrapped around yours, and you finally see that the signs says “Theatre Raleur”. Arthur guides you into the building and you’re welcomed by marble walls, carvings done in gold leaf, and a large, bright chandelier. Arthur goes up to the vendor and buys two tickets, then guides you down a beautiful, wood paneled hallway with two more chandeliers and intricate oil paintings. You turn a corner and see a set of double doors, a bar standing across from them. 

Arthur opens the door and holds it for you. You pick two seats in the back and sit down. Arthur takes the seat to your right, his hand on your knee. No one else is sitting this far back, but the theatre’s well attended. After a few moments, the curtain splits open and a man in a waistcoat and tophat comes out and introduces himself, and then the first act. You roll your eyes at his cheap jokes and annoying banter, but then he goes into the curtain and it opens a second later. 

A woman comes out holding a long stick. She lights both ends of it and begins twirling it around. The audience applauses and encourages her dancing, but Arthur just yells out “Catch on fire!” 

“Arthur!” you giggle. He chuckles and puts an arm behind you. You look over at him. In the firelight, he’s even more handsome. His blue eyes flicker in the soft light. Your eyes travel down to his neck and then the small triangle of his exposed chest. You bite your lip a bit. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think of him inappropriately when Arthur asked you on a date earlier. You tell yourself that when the show’s over, you’ll have dinner, a bath and then you’ll pounce on him. 

The dancing fire woman does her final trick of spitting fire up into the air and then heads off the stage. The host comes out and introduces the next act, which sounds like a troupe of French dancing girls. 

They come skipping out, accompanied by a dancing man who instructs them on what moves to do. The girls begin dancing to the music and then they lift up their skirts to show their bloomers. Men around the theatre wolf-whistle at them. 

“Right on ya, girls!” Arthur hollers out.

You can’t help but giggle. You know Arthur really isn’t flirting with them, he’s just trying to rile you up. 

“Show them bloomers again!” he yells. 

“Arthur!” you squeak next to him. He squeezes your shoulder a bit, a big grin on his face. Two can play at this game you decide. 

You lean into him, placing your hand innocently on his knee. He’s clearly distracted by the show, so you glide your hand up his leg until you reach his groin. He sucks in hard when you squeeze him.

“Darlin’, what are ya doin’?” he hisses as you palm him. 

“Just want you to really enjoy the show,” you say, kissing the skin of his chest. He stifles a groan as you do, your hand pressing against his hardening cock. 

“We…. we shouldn’t, darlin’. Anyone could look back and see us.” 

“Who cares? They’d be getting an actual show if they did.” 

Despite himself, he spreads his legs a little more. His jeans are too tight for you to really work at him though, so you pull them open and slip your hand inside, unbutton his union suit just enough and then grab onto his firm cock. He breathes in sharply again when you do. His hand leaves your shoulder and winds into your hair, bringing your face up to his so he can kiss you. He stifles a groan again as you slip a finger over his head. 

“God damn it, darlin’,” he hisses into your mouth. “You’re really testin’ me.” 

Encouraged by this, you slip his cock out of his pants. If anyone looked over, they’d have no trouble seeing him. You start pumping him, making him stand even firmer. 

“D-darlin’,” he whimpers, breaking the kiss so he can look around to make sure no one’s watching. Luckily everyone is focused on the dancing girls. You lean into him further, working even more on his firm length. He hisses again when you trace the slit on his head, aware of the moisture seeping out. You wish he could feel how wet you are right now as you kiss his neck. 

His free hand suddenly comes up and finds your chest. He grabs onto a breast and presses it on you, making it your turn to gasp. 

“See? Awkward, isn’t it?” he says cheekily.

“On the contrary. I find it exciting.” You take his hand off of you and bend down, slipping your mouth around his length. He can’t help but groan as you run your tongue along his shaft and then begin sucking. His hand winds into your hair, pulling on it slightly. You begin bobbing on him, encouraged by his reaction. He twitches in your mouth. You slip him almost entirely out of your mouth so you can suck on his tip. His hips suddenly buck up slightly and he releases into your mouth, his hot spend going down your throat. 

“God damn it, sweetheart,” he hisses as you release him. You grin up at him cheekily and sit up while he stuffs himself back into his pants. 

“How’s that for a show?” you say as the girls stop dancing and the curtain closes. The host comes out and introduces the last act. The curtain opens again to reveal a man who claims to be a magician. Its seems his only true talent is talking people into a stupor so he can pretend to do magic. You lean back in your seat, content to finish the show properly. 

The man’s talking so long, Arthur reaches over to you, a sly grin on his face. “What are you doing?” you ask. 

“Karma, sweetheart. Keep an eye out.” 

He starts kissing your neck, his hand unbuttoning your pants. You put a hand to your mouth to prevent you from gasping when he slips a finger into your soaked folds. He begins sliding up and down your slit from your opening to your clit, stimulating your swollen, pulsing nub. You have to grit your teeth in order to not make any sound. 

As the man on the stage hands his assistant a gun to shoot him with, claiming he can catch a bullet with his teeth, Arthur slips a finger into your opening. He slides another in and then begins pushing in and out. It takes all your self control to not buck into his hand, to make him fuck you even harder. Your hands latch onto his arm, making him chuckle. 

“See? Not as easy or as pleasant as you thought, hmm?” 

“I… I wouldn’t… say that, Ar-Arthur. God, I… I’ve never… been so…. Turned… on,” you say as he pushes his fingers into you. The only way this could be better is if it was his cock as he can brush your spot with ease. 

“Hmm, you are pretty wet. If we were somewhere proper, I’d suck you dry.” 

“That better be a… promise for later.” You slide down into your seat, giving Arthur an even better angle. His fingers slip out and go back to your pearl, pressing it, tickling it. He starts rubbing it hard and fast. Thank God the performer’s assistant shoots the gun, it covers the sound of the wet sounds coming from between your legs. 

You try continuing to watch the show, but your vision’s fogging as he rubs even faster and harder, it almost hurts. You push your hips up, allowing him to grind his hand against your clit even more. Your head suddenly tips back against the seat and you grab the arms so tight you’re surprised they don’t break as your orgasm pulses through your body. You cover your mouth so you don’t make a sound. 

When your peak simmers down, leaving you a trembling puddle beneath Arthur’s arm, he chuckles and buttons your pants up for you. “Hope that did the trick, darlin’.” 

“Oh not quite. Let’s get out of here, do the deed properly.” 

You stand up, taking his hand in yours and rush out of the theatre. Within moments, you’re at the hotel and he buys a room. As soon as you’re in the room, you push Arthur down onto the bed and hop onto him, straddling his hips. 

“Now let me give you a real show, Mr. Morgan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked what you read, leave a kudos. Better yet, leave a comment! They are my bread and butter.


	42. The doctor - Modern Arthur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Can you do something with a seriously injured/sick Modern!Arthur ending up in the hospital ICU and female reader being his doctor?

You pick up the new chart for your most recent patient and sigh heavily. You figured you’d get this case. Earlier this morning, you’d heard of a car accident and that one of the drivers involved was rushed to your hospital. Sure enough, when you open it to read the patient’s info, it is the same incident. He was terfed to you in the ICU from surgery. You read the name “Morgan, Arthur” but think nothing of it. Just another name. 

Before heading to see your new patient, you stop by the lounge and grab a cup of coffee. You’d like to run downstairs to the hospital’s coffee shop and get something better, but you need to see your patient first. You chug the bitter coffee, despite it being eight at night. You’re here until morning anyways, running one of your mandatory night shifts. 

You stop at the nurse’s station and see Hailey, one of the nurses. “Hailey, have you finished with Mr. Morgan?” you ask. She nods. “Yes, I gave him a full workup. He’s still out from the surgery, but I gave him the usual amount of morphine for someone his size.” 

“His size?” you say, furrowing your brow and opening the chart again. In the section stating his height and weight, you read 6’2 and 203 pounds. You mentally shrug your shoulders and thank Hailey, asking if there’s anything more you need to know before going into his room. She shakes her head and goes off towards another room. 

When you open the door to Arthur’s room, you look at him lying in the hospital bed. He’s got the usual set up: IV, heart monitor on his finger, cast around his left arm. You open his chart again and read the surgery to fix his arm took just under five hours and they’d had to put a few pins in near his elbow. He also needed a transfusion during surgery. You go over to a board holding up his CT and x-ray scans. It was reported that he may have struck his head on the driver window of his truck and it was thought he might have some swelling in his skull. Luckily, his scans are negative for that and the only thing broken is his arm. He also has a tear in his rotator cuff and a laceration in his calf. Those things considered, he’s very lucky. You’d read the article about the accident. He’s lucky to be alive, his truck was a pretzel. 

You check over him. He is quite handsome, but you’re professional of course. He’s not the first handsome man who’s been thrown your way and he certainly won’t be the last. Just as you’re writing down some notes about his condition, his eyes open slightly and he looks around, his eyes landing on you. This is a good opportunity for you to check his mental condition, or at least as much as you can since he’s still under the influence of the anesthesia. 

“Hello Arthur, can you hear me?” you say softly, standing close to him. 

His heart beat picks up a bit and he breathes out heavily. “Was… accident…” he mumbles in a gruff voice. 

“That’s right, you were in an accident. You’re okay though, you’re in the hospital. Just take it easy and relax.”

You give him a few moments to wake up a bit further and collect himself. When you ask him if he’s in any pain, he says no. You offer him a sip of his water and he takes it. Just as you’re lowering the glass and getting ready to leave, his good hand suddenly shoots up and grabs yours. This isn’t unusual, of course. People respond differently when waking up from the drugs he’s on. At least he isn’t being aggressive. 

“You’re real pretty,” he says roughly. “Real pretty.” His eyes close and he’s out again. You smile to yourself. When you first came in and noticed his large build and rugged appearance, you didn’t figure he’d be sweet like this. You’re curious how he’ll be when he’s more coherent. 

*******************************

It’s nearly five in the morning and you’re nearly done with your shift. It’s been a long night, but not unusual. You’re making your last rounds again to check on your patients before heading home. You stop by Arthur’s room and go in. Rebecca, another nurse, is in the room, checking on his supply of fluids and the monitors. 

“Did he wake at all?” you ask.

“Only for a moment or two. Said he wasn’t feeling much.” 

“Good,” you say, but you’re curious. Rebecca’s pretty, much prettier than you in your opinion. “Hey, when he was awake, did he call you pretty?” 

“No,” she says and you can tell she’s being honest. “Why?” 

“Hmm, nothing. Just… heard from one of the other nurses he’d called them pretty,” you lie. You’ve never once thought of yourself as attractive, but pride yourself on acting like you don’t care. You’ll die before you admit to anyone that the one thing you want most is to curl up in the arms of someone who loves you. You’ve been alone so long, you’ve given up on exploring what that feels like, so you’ve pretended like you don’t care, that you prefer being alone. 

Rebecca smiles. “Well, lucky her. He’s cute! Got that rough look some girls just love.” 

“You mean you love,” you tease. She giggles and walks out. You sigh and go over to his bed, checking him over again despite Rebecca having just done it. You aren’t quite sure why, you don’t do this with the other patients when they’ve just been checked on since you can trust the nursing staff. “Get a grip on yourself,” you say quietly. “Just because he called you pretty when he was floating in outer space doesn’t mean anything. He’ll probably find you just as ugly as everyone else when he’s back to normal.” 

You mentally shake yourself and leave the room before you can make yourself sink further.

****************************************

That night, you’re back for another long 12 hour shift. You hadn’t given this Arthur Morgan another thought from the second you left his room, but now that you’re standing outside of it, you realize the effects of the anesthesia will have completely worn off by now. You brace yourself, ready for him to not remember you at all. 

When you open the door, he’s awake, though you can tell he’s still fairly doped up and could very easily fall back into a drug-induced slumber again. He doesn’t even seem to know you’re there until you’re standing next to him. 

“Mr. Morgan,” you say softly to catch his attention. He looks up at you and smiles a bit. 

“Who are you?” 

“I’m Doctor (your last name).”

“You’re my doc?” he says, his voice soft. “Well, ain’t I the luckiest?” 

You smile down at him. “Don’t be silly, Mr. Morgan, there are plenty of doctors here that are just as good as me. Some are probably even better.” 

“Bet none of ‘em are as pretty as you though.” 

This stops you. It wasn’t like the last time when he called you pretty. He’s much more conscious this time, though still doped up. “Like I said, don’t be silly, Mr. Morgan. Now while you’re awake, I want to ask you a few questions.” 

You go through the usual questions for someone in his state, making sure he doesn’t have a brain injury, how much of the incident he can recall, and of course if he’s in any pain or experiencing any numbness. Again, he’s lucky, he can recall most of what happened and his pain is manageable.

Just as you’re making your last notes, he catches your attention. “Am I gonna get transferred somewhere else any time soon?” 

“Not if we can help it, Mr. Morgan. We’re hoping you’ll be out of here tomorrow, then you’ll be taken to post-surgery. Once you’re deemed well enough to go home, you’ll be released.”

He smiles again. “Good. Will you be down there with me?”

His question takes you by surprise. Of course you’ve had patients get attached to you, but they’re usually the ones that stay here for longer periods of time. 

“N-no, Mr. Morgan. I’m an ICU doc, I don’t do anything with surgery.” 

His smile fades a bit. “But you will come see me, won’t ya?” 

You can’t resist the look of hope in his face. “I will do my best, Mr. Morgan.” 

*************************************

Arthur stays in your section of the hospital for the remainder of the night, but in the morning he’s well enough to be transferred to post-surgery. You aren’t there when he’s rotated, so when you check the room that night to find it empty, you feel a bit bummed. You go to your office and look up his record to find where he’s been moved. Room 102 in post surgery and he’s scheduled to be released in the morning as long as his new doctor determines the amount of pain he’s in. 

You decide to go visit Arthur in his new room to see how he’s doing. You rarely do this for your patients, except for those you take an academic interest in (such as a few years ago when a teenage girl got ejected from a vehicle and lived). You’ve never done it because of a personal interest though. 

After making your rounds, you make your way to the post surgery unit. You greet some of the doctors you pass by, some of them you know. Finally you find room 102. You knock on the door and open it, wondering if he’s asleep. His TV’s on, playing some silly late night adult cartoon, but his eyes are closed. You can tell by his expression he’s not asleep. 

You approach his bed slowly and he opens his eyes, a smile immediately stretching across his face. “Hey doc. I’m real glad you came to see me.” 

“Hello, Mr. Morgan. Just wanted to make sure you’re adjusting fine,” you lie. 

“Oh I’m peachy.” 

“You glad to be going home tomorrow? I’m sure they explained the process to you of dealing with your broken arm.” 

“They did, yes. But I ain’t too sure about how I’m gonna get home. Call an Uber I guess.” 

“You don’t have someone to pick you up and take you home?” you ask. 

“Nah. I’ve lived alone on my ranch for some time now. Used to live with my adopted father, uncle and brother but… father died, uncle went crazy and ran off, my brother did too. Ended up in a big mess and I was left with the ranch they owned. I ain’t got no one. ‘Cept Copper my dog. Ya can call him but he don’t answer his cell hardly ever.” 

You laugh, despite yourself. “Bet he would if he could, Mr. Morgan. And I’m real sorry about your predicament. Don’t you have a girlfriend or… someone special who you could depend on?” 

Okay, now you’re treading in dangerous waters. Asking him questions to scope out if he’s available or not. What is wrong with you? 

“Nah, I was engaged a few years ago but… it didn’t end well. Her daddy didn’t like me and to be honest I ain’t too sure why I ever loved her. She used me a lot. Ain’t had no one since.”

“I almost find that hard to believe, good looking man like yourself.’

Seriously, what is wrong with you? It’s time to stop. You should never have come down here. Just because he called you pretty a couple times when he was doped to hell doesn’t mean he was interested in you. For all you know, he’s just a friendly guy when he’s drugged up. Some patients are like that. You once had a woman younger than you try to adopt you and the rest of your staff when she came out of having surgery and got tossed to your department.

“Nah, most women don’t seem interested in me. ‘Sides, I ain’t what I’d call good looking,” he says. 

“Hmm, well maybe you need to look at yourself from someone else’s perspective, Mr. Morgan.” Okay, you’re really pushing your personal envelope here. It’s time to leave before you step into dangerous waters. Close the curtains on this before you get into something you’ll regret. “Well, I’m glad you’re doing better, Mr. Morgan. I’m real sorry for your predicament, but it could certainly be worse.” 

You close his chart and begin turning to leave, making yourself silently promise to never make it a point to see him again. Just as you’re about to grab the door handle, he calls to you. 

“You, uh, you ain’t single, I’m guessin’,” he says. 

“W-why?” you ask. 

“Well,” he’s blushing now. “Was thinkin’ I’d really like to get to know ya. Not when I’m stuck in a hospital bed with God knows what bein’ pumped into me so I don’t feel nothin’. Proper, I wanna get to know ya proper. Take ya to dinner maybe.” He rubs the back of his neck with his good hand. “Course if you’re with someone, I don’t wanna get in the way of that.” 

You sigh and turn to face him. “I’m not with anyone, Mr. Morgan. Trust me, though. You don’t wanna date me. I’m… I’m a workaholic. Most of my time is spent here and when I am at home I’m doing paperwork.” 

“Well it’s nice to know you’re so dedicated to your career but that don’t tell me a damn thing about ya.” 

You shuffle your feet and look away. “You’re better off not knowing me, Mr. Morgan. Most people get to know me don’t like me. Not like that anyways.”

“Can I be my own judge on that?” he asks. “Please, doc, I’d love to take ya to dinner. Humor me just once?” 

You sigh. “Okay.” 

**********************************

A few weeks have gone by and you haven’t heard a peep from Arthur, despite having exchanged cell numbers with him. Not that you’re surprised. Once he weaned himself off the major painkillers, he probably came to his senses. You try to pretend to yourself that you’re not bummed about it and drown yourself in work. It’s hard to convince yourself that you weren’t excited though. You haven’t been on a date in years. 

Just as you’ve finally begun to forget the whole thing, your cell phone goes off on one of the few nights you have to yourself. You pick it up and read the text. “Sorry I haven’t spoken to you since I was released. Been trying to put my life back together. Dinner still? -Arthur.” 

So he hasn’t forgotten you. Your stomach tightens. Do you really want to go through with this? Part of you wants to lie and say you’ve gotten into a relationship with someone else. “Come on, Y/N,” another voice says. “You didn’t get to becoming a doctor through squeezing out of uncomfortable situations. If it ends up awkward, just get some bread rolls, hightail it out of there and block his number.” 

It’s been ages since you did something for yourself on a personal level though. Sure, you’ve done a lot of things you didn’t like in order to advance in your education and your career, but not on a personal level. 

It’s been ten minutes since you got his text and you’ve been arguing with yourself on whether or not to take him up. Finally you pick up your phone and type “I’d love that.” 

A few moments go by and he responds back, asking where you’d like to go.

*******************************************

Three days later, you’re standing outside your favorite restaurant, an Indian place, waiting for him to arrive. You’re still scared of what might happen tonight, but you’re betting nothing good will happen. You doubt he’ll attack you or anything, most likely he’ll just figure out he really doesn’t like you and then never speak to you again. Hell, he might already be ghosting you. Whatever, if he is, no skin off your nose. You’ll just order out from this place and take it home to watch your favorite movie. 

It’s fifteen minutes past when he said he’d be here, but still nothing. You sigh and start turning to walk in when you hear the engine of a truck pull into the driveway. Turning around, you see a gray Dodge Ram pulling into a space. A moment later, Arthur gets out of it. He beams when he sees you, his arm still in a cast and walking with a slight limp. 

“Sorry I’m late. Traffic jam held me up.” He grabs the door and holds it open for you.

“Oh, th-thanks,” you say. 

Over dinner, Arthur asks you a ton of questions about yourself. You’ve never opened up so much to anyone, but he seems so genuine in his responses and so enthusiastic about getting to know you, you can’t help it. You end up staying at the restaurant for two hours.

He reveals a lot about himself as well, what his life is like now and how it used to be before his family fell apart. You can’t help but think you couldn’t find a more loyal, hard working man than him. By the end of the two hours, you can’t help but wonder if you’re feeling something for him. 

You finally leave the restaurant, but more for the sake of the waiting staff than anything else. Arthur walks you over to your car. When you get there, he stops you. “Y/N, thanks for lettin’ me take ya to dinner.” 

Oh no, he’s going to follow up with this by telling you he isn’t interested in going further. You mentally prepare yourself to block this in order to protect yourself. 

“I’d love to go out with ya again, if you’d like. Ya seem like a wonderful person.” 

“Huh?” you say out loud.

“I, uh, I said-” 

“No I know what you said,” you respond, your face burning. You hadn’t meant to voice your confusion. “I meant… why in the hell would you want to go out with me? Honestly you’re a trooper for doing it once. You must be insane for wanting a second go.” 

He cocks his head to the side slightly. “You really don’t like yourself much, do you?” 

His question causes you to blush even more. You look down at your feet, not sure what to say. “I guess not. That’s why I became a doctor. I didn’t do it because I wanted to help people. Just… guess I wanted to boost my own ego.” 

He sighs heavily. “Y/N, can I try somethin’ with ya? If you don’t like it, I’ll stop.” 

“What is it?” you ask quietly, on the verge of tearing up. 

He extends his good arm, holding it out to you. You realize what he’s offering to do. You can’t remember the last time anyone hugged you, or even touched you in any kind of affection. He slowly approaches and you feel yourself tensing up. His arm gently wraps around you, his hand gently touching your mid back. He slowly pulls you to him until you have to settle against his chest. You find yourself leaning into him though. God, he’s warm and he’s firm. He smells good too. You’d been worried he wanted to hug you in order to gain some kind of grounds for sex, but this feels different. Platonic, almost. His arm grips you tight and you rest against him. A vortex of emotions goes through you. Confusion, fear, yearning, but most of all, gratitude. You know exactly what effects physical touch can do to a person, the chemicals it releases. How humans are wired to thrive better both physically and mentally through touch. Yet you’ve received so little of it, it feels almost alien to you. 

As he continues to hold you, you suddenly find yourself crying into his blue plaid shirt. You don’t know why, either. As the first few tears fall, you feel something inside yourself breaking like a dam and you’re sobbing. He pulls away, looking down at you, a worried expression on his face. 

“Oh God, I’m so sorry, Y/N, I didn’t mean to make you upset. You shoulda said you didn’t like-”

“No it’s not you, I’m the one who should be apologizing,” you sniffle, rubbing your cheeks dry. “I don’t know why I’m crying, Arthur. All I know is… you’ve shown me more kindness tonight than I’ve experienced throughout the last five years.”

“Jesus, Y/N, I done hardly nothin’.” He looks down, the expression of worry changing to sorrow. He extends his arm again to you and you happily go into it, resting against his warm, strong body.

**************************************

You’ve been on multiple dates with Arthur at this point. During every single one of them, he’s made it a point to hold you close to him. He knows now just how touch-depraved and starved you are. He’s the same way, he’s admitted, so he enjoys the opportunities too. Your last date had been nothing but you both curling up on your couch wrapped in each other’s embrace as you watched a movie. You ended up falling asleep in his arm, but he didn’t move at all. He just loved the sensation of having someone he loved trust him enough to do so. 

Your first kiss had been sweet. It had been sunset and Arthur insisted on taking a walk in a park not too far from your house. He’d held your hand the entire time, but halfway through your walk, he’d stopped you and pulled you into a kiss. He didn’t push things further with you than that, but since then you’ve kissed him every time you’ve seen him. Even those times you’ve only seen him for five minutes. 

You’ve started to really fall hard for him. You’re starting to think you want to sleep with him. How could you not, after all? He’s handsome, tall, broad, but more than that, he’s sweet, thoughtful, and compassionate. However, it will be hard for you to make love to him with his cast still on. Even when it comes off, he’ll need physical therapy. But you might be able to make things work. 

That night when he comes over, you greet him with a home cooked dinner (a rare occurrence for you). He greets you with a sweet, soft kiss. After dinner, you take his hand. 

“I have a surprise for you,” you say, trembling lightly. You haven’t slept with anyone since college, and those people you felt no affections for. You’d slept with them to blow off steam to handle the stress of school. Arthur’s different. You want to have sex with him to show him how much you love him. 

“Oh?” Arthur says, curious. You lead him to your bedroom. He’s well acquainted with it. One night you’d gotten pretty sick from some bad food. When you told him your predicament, he’d come over and slept in your bed, holding you all night. He’s spent several nights in your bed since, but he’s never tried pulling a move. 

When you get to your room, you guide him to sit down on your bed. When he’s positioned, you slip off your shirt and then your bra. You can hear his breathing pick up and his eyes go down to your tits. 

“Ya… ya sure?” he asks. 

You bite your lip, smile and nod. “Yes, Arthur. I’m ready.” You slide into his lap, straddling him and gently push him to lay on his back. He does so, letting you take complete control. You undress him slowly, being aware of his injured arm. He’s so goddamn attractive, you can’t help but admire the hair on his chest, his firm arms, his treasure trial, beyond that. You already know he’s going to put all your past sexual encounters to shame. 

“Let me take a refresher course in anatomy, Mr. Morgan. You obviously don’t mind being my subject,” you say. God, you couldn’t make this sound more like a bad porno if you tried. Oh well, he seems excited. You mentally roll your eyes at yourself and go to work. 

***************************************

In the morning, you wake up still naked, lying with your head on Arthur’s chest. His heart drums in your ears. His hand starts brushing through your hair, he knows you’re awake. You look up at him and smile. 

“I never asked if you liked my surprise,” you say. 

He grins. “More than you know.” He leans up and kisses you sweetly. “When this arm’s better, I’ll make sure to really give you a good time, darlin’.”

You groan into his mouth. He’d done some pretty amazing things to you last night you definitely won’t forget for a long time, if ever. “I can’t wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you read, leave a kudos. Better yet, leave a comment!


	43. The nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hello! 😊 can you write Arthur reassuring reader after she woke up screaming from a nightmare?

Keep running, you say to yourself. You have to keep running. If you stop for even a second, they’ll catch you. 

“Come on!” you shout behind you at your little sister. 

“I can’t, I’m tired!” she whines, stopping again for the third time in a row. You do too, your lungs burning from running. The ash and smoke you breathed in earlier doesn’t help. 

“I know, I am too. But we have to keep going!” you scream, grabbing her hand and dragging her behind you. Behind you comes the laughter, like a pack of coyotes. They are coming. The sound makes you scream and you run faster. 

“They went this way,” A man’s voice screams. “Keep running, children! We’ll get ya!” 

What is wrong with these people? They almost act like they’re hunting animals, only you’re the animals. You shriek again and keep running, your face and arms getting scratched by the bushes you run through, leaping over fallen trees. Your sister struggles to keep up with you, her hand being crushed by your own. 

“I want mama!” she cries out. 

“They got her,” you say, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Papa too. We can’t stop though!” 

From behind you hear the heavy footfalls of a much larger person than yourself bounding towards you. Your sister is suddenly wrenched from your grasp, making you stumble. You turn to see the man holding her up by the arm as she screams, several other men bounding up to his side and laughing. 

You don’t think, you just get up and continue running. It’s too late for her, there’s nothing you can do. You’ve no weapons and you’re half their size. As you flee, you hear a weird splashing sound. You jump over the large trunk of a fallen tree and hear your sister screaming like you’ve never heard before. You hide behind the trunk and look back, but then you wish you’d kept running. You see your sister’s silhouette in the flames covering her body. The men must have doused her in some kind of flammable oil and then thrown a torch at her. Her arms flail about as she shrieks in agony, twirling and running in circles as the men laugh. 

You can’t watch anymore as they let her burn alive. You get back up on your legs and keep running, tears streaming down your cheeks. You blindly hurl yourself into trees, and each one you touch begins glowing, their bark turning to coals. The men chasing you lurch out of the darkness, taunting you, screaming at you. The sky above the tall trees illuminates, lightning streaking across the clouds. 

One of the man grabs your wrists, his hand growing hairy and his nails lengthening and turning black. You look up at him and his face morphs into a dog’s. He growls and yelps, his companions closing in. They’re turning too and they’re preparing to leap onto you, ready to tear you to shreds. They show their teeth, foamy spit dripping from their jowls. 

This isn’t right, you think. Pull yourself out, this isn’t right. This isn’t real because this isn’t how it happened. Get out of this!

Somehow you wake yourself up, but the howls and cackling of the men still rings in your ears. You look outside your tent, convincing yourself that you see their glowing eyes in the darkest spots in the area you can see.

You sit up, feeling yourself shaking. The vision of your sister, bathed in flames, keeps swimming into your vision. An overwhelming sense of guilt slams into you. While you don’t know exactly how she died at the hands of her murderers, you were the only one of your family to survive. All because you ran rather than staying behind to try and fight them off like your father and older brother. True, your father had screamed at you and your sister to run, but she hadn’t. She’d stayed behind with them, too afraid of leaving your parents, and those monsters killed her. You only know they did because they didn’t leave victims. They weren’t named the Skinners for nothing. 

You’ve had dreams like this before, many times since that awful night. You’ve watched each member of your family murdered in different ways, and each time you run instead of helping them. The dreams always end the same: with the Skinners catching up to you and killing you. Them transforming into dogs is a new addition, but nonetheless terrifying. 

You’re parched, so you climb out of your tent and walk over to Pearson’s wagon. Everyone else is asleep, not that you’re surprised. You dare a glance over at Arthur’s tent, but it’s empty. No surprise, he went on a hunting trip this morning. He’s usually out for a day or two when he hunts. Somehow you think you’d feel better if he was around. It’s hard to feel threatened when you’re in his presence. It’s not just that he’s big and broad, he just has this energy and force to him, like nothing could move him if he didn’t want to be moved. The fact that he’s fiercely loyal to the gang and almost everyone in it only adds to that. 

You grab a tin cup on the table Pearson uses to cut vegetables and dip it into the water barrel, drinking greedily. The flames from your dream had felt so real, singeing your throat and lungs. You empty the cup in seconds and then dip it into the water a second time. Just as you’re raising it to your lips, a voice comes from right behind you. 

“Surprised you’re up this late.” 

You drop the cup and turn quickly, ignoring the fact that the water’s splashed down your legs. 

“Oh, Arthur,” you say, putting a hand over your heart as if it’ll stop the pounding. 

“You a’right?” he asks softly, his face worried. 

“Y-yeah. Just… I had a nightmare, is all. They always shake me up.” 

“Hmm. Well, why don’t ya come sit down with me at the fire, try to settle down again. We can talk if ya want.” 

This kind of invitation isn’t unusual for Arthur, or for him to offer it to you. He’s one of the few men that will run miles in order to get a small trinket for someone if they ask, and he’s one of the few who takes interest in everyone. It’s one of the things you love about him, not that you’d ever admit you’ve got a thing for him. Especially not to him. Emotionally, he’s very unavailable. 

You smile and nod. “Thanks, Arthur.” 

He walks with you over to the fire and sits down on the log next to you, making sure to keep a few inches between you. For the next few moments, you’re both quiet. You look over to him, he looks tired. You wonder why he didn’t just make sure you were okay and then head off to bed. 

“You don’t have to stay up with me,” you say. “I’ll be okay. You should get some sleep.” 

He glances over at you. “I’m a’right. I’d rather stay up and make sure you can settle down again.” 

“I will, Arthur. Now go take care of yourself.” Arthur’s a complex man. You’ve seen how scary he can be, know how many men he’s killed. On the other side though, he can be funny, witty, sarcastic, but most of all, caring. He truly cares about those he considers family and would happily die for this gang. He’s sweet to the girls, especially Tilly and Mary-Beth, and he’s extremely caring and even paternal with Jack. You remember catching him holding a sleeping Jack while Abigail was swamped with chores. That was when you knew you were in trouble, that your crush was more than a minor infatuation that would snuff itself out in a matter of time. 

Arthur stretches his arms out. “I’m fine, Y/N.” 

“Arthur, you’re tired. Go on, get some sleep.” 

He looks over at you with a small smile. “Tell ya what. I’ll go to bed after you tell me about this dream.” 

You swallow nervously. Of course it’s no secret to anyone in the gang how your family died. It’d been many years ago, you were barely a teenager when it’d happened. You were travelling with your family, you set up camp in a forest for a few days to rest. Little did anyone in your family know that the Skinners had migrated this way. One night, they’d raided your wagon. You were the only one to escape. 

“I just… dreamed about my family again,” you say sadly. “I’ve had these dreams before. It’s like my brain’s trying to find answers as to how they died, like it’s seeking closure. I’ve watched them all die in a number of ways. Tonight it was my sister. She… she and I were best friends.” 

Your lip’s trembling as you remember her. The way she used to laugh, how she’d sing to herself, her jokes that could always make you laugh. You proceed telling Arthur about your dream, not hiding any detail, not even the part when you ran rather than trying to help her. When you get to the Skinners turning to dogs, you stop. 

“That’s all that happened,” you finish, staring into the dirt. You can’t look into the fire, afraid you’ll see her again. 

Arthur sighs, “Bad business, Y/N. I’m truly sorry. I can’t imagine how you must feel.” He’s silent for a moment, almost as though he’s debating. 

“Well, I don’t wanna leave you alone now. Doubt you’ll be able to sleep after a dream like that, know I wouldn’t.” 

“But you need to sleep,” you say as he yawns. 

“Let me finish. I was thinkin’... maybe I could sleep in the other half of your tent. That way you ain’t alone.” His eyes widen a bit. “I ain’t plannin’ nothin’, please don’t think that. Just want ya to be okay.” 

You smile, glad it’s dark so he doesn’t notice the blush on your cheeks. “I know you’d never do anything, Arthur. I… I’d like that.” 

You stand up and lead him to your tent. You crawl in and settle down into your bed roll. You’re just about to grab the blanket when Arthur drapes it over you. He pats your shoulder and then sits down next to you, takes his hat off and then lies on his back. 

“Let me know if ya need anythin’,” he says in the darkness. You yawn, feeling suddenly tired. 

Just as you’re drifting off, you hear a bush somewhere behind your tent rustle. The sound jerks you awake, memories of the Skinners leaping out of the darkness of your dream coming back to you. 

“Arthur!” you hiss. He sits up, blinking his own exhaustion from his face. 

“Sure it’s nothin’,” he says. He gets up and goes out. You hear him walk away and then silence. Your blood pounds in your ears and you fear the worst. Funny how the night magnifies one’s senses and makes things seem a lot scarier than they are. You start wringing your hands, but then Arthur’s footsteps come back. He enters the tent again and settles down. 

“Just a raccoon lookin’ for scraps. It’s gone now.” 

You let out a relieved sigh, but your adrenaline is still going. Arthur looks at you in the darkness.

“You sure you’re okay? Ya seem nervous.” 

“Y-yeah,” you say. “Just being silly.” 

You look down at him and he extends his arm closest to you out and away from his body. “Come here,” he whispers. 

“Oh I don’t wanna impose on you, Arthur.” 

“It ain’t imposin’ if you’ve been invited. Ya need to sleep too. Now come on.” 

You sigh and lay down next to him, settle your body right against his and then lay your head on his chest. It’s only now that you realize how cold you are. His body radiates heat and his heart drums at a steady pace in your ears. He smells good, like pine, sage and earth. You can’t help but take several deep breaths so his scent floods your nostrils. His hand lays against your shoulder, his thumb circling over it, comforting you. You drape your arm over him, bringing you even closer to him. 

Within seconds, you’re beginning to fall asleep. That is until his hand leaves your shoulder. He fidgets a bit and then you feel the blanket covering you again. You shift a little against him, getting even more comfortable. You’ve only dared imagine this moment during your loneliest hours in the past, but they’re nowhere near as good as the real thing. You hardly need a blanket lying next to him, but it keeps your back warm. His arm around you forms a protective cocoon and his heartbeat covers the sounds of the world outside. What you wouldn’t give to feel his lips graze your forehead? 

You want to stay awake simply to continue enjoying this moment, but you’re so warm and comfortable, you can’t help but begin drifting off. The nightmare doesn’t seem at all threatening anymore. You can’t remember the last time you felt this safe. You press your forehead to his neck, falling further into sleep. Just as you go under, you swear you hear him say something. 

“You damn idiot. You ain’t foolin’ no one, Morgan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you read, leave a comment. Feedback is greatly appreciated!


	44. Sweet Morning Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hi there! Since I found your prompts and madly fell in love with reading them, I asked myself if you could do a chapter involving very very sweet morning sex. Reader (fem) waking up as the little spoon and Arthur moaning would be great *-*

It’s been a perfect day. Arthur took you out earlier this morning for a hunting trip. He claimed it was because he thought you needed some time away from camp, to get a break from Grimshaw’s squawking, but you saw right through him. He just wanted a reason to have you all to himself. 

You’ve known Arthur for a long time now, but only been romantic with him for a little over a month now. Arthur still wants to hide it from camp. Not because he’s ashamed of being seen with you, but because he feels unworthy of being by your side. You keep reminding him your slate isn’t squeaky clean either, that you’ve committed plenty of crimes and could easily be hung for a number of them. You know he’s hesitant about coming out to the gang about you two not just because of that though. He’s likely to be teased by a number of people for it. He’s been alone so long and so stoic about it, how could he not make himself a target by being openly sweet with you? So in order to make him comfortable, you’ve played along with it.

The task has been harder than you’ve imagined though. You’ve spent many nights sitting beside him at the fire, wishing you could just lean your head on his shoulder, had plenty of conversations with him and tried to pretend you weren’t staring at his lips, and wanted nothing more than to hold his hand in camp. However, you know he wants to do those things too. When he’s ready, he’ll let this out to camp, but not yet.

You sit beside him now at the small fire he’s built for the night, leaning on his shoulder, her hand entwined with his. You both stare silently at the fire, feeling content with the other’s company. You sigh, growing tired. It’s beautiful out here, you’ve never seen the stars more clearly. Out here in the Heartlands just west of Emerald Ranch, they blink unashamedly bright. You tilt your head up to look at them now, a warm breeze drifting over you. Arthur shifts himself so he can wrap an arm around you. You look at him and smile, then get up a little so you can sit in his lap and curl against his chest. A soft laugh emits from his throat. He folds his arms tightly around you and kisses your forehead. 

“You gettin’ tired?” he says. 

You sigh and place a soft kiss to the small triangle of exposed skin on his chest. “Yeah, a little.” 

He chuckles and pushes you up, standing with you. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get some rest.” 

You lay down in your bed roll, waiting for him to settle beside you. Before he does, he removes his shirt, but keeps his pants on. He knows you like feeling his bare skin when you cuddle, and it’s a warm night. As soon as he’s laid down, you’re curling up against him, laying your head on his chest and draping an arm over his stomach. His hand settles on your shoulder, tracing soft patterns into your skin. On a night like this, you’d surely have sex with him. After all, you’re all alone with him. This was how it happened the first time a few weeks ago. You’d been alone, it was a warm night, you’d both had a little to drink. One thing led to another and you and Arthur made love. He was wonderful, as well. He’d known exactly how to please you, how to get you to release, your fingernails scratching down his back. 

You’ve only made love two or three times since. It makes it difficult spending so much time in camp and still hiding your relationship from the others. The second time, you’d asked Arthur to go into town just so you could take him to the hotel and have sex. The third time you’d been on guard duty and Arthur came back from a job. His adrenaline was still pumping, so you relaxed him out in the cover of the trees. 

Now that you’re all alone again, you want to have sex with him again. No one has ever turned you on like Arthur. Just as you’re thinking about how to approach him to get him going, you fall asleep. It’s no surprise really, you worked hard today with hunting and gathering plants. Both your horses are laden with several pelts. Arthur even managed to get a buffalo, and you helped him take as much of the carcass as you could carry. 

Arthur had been thinking of doing the same thing as you’d been, but when he looked down, you were already fast asleep. He put his hand over yours and settled in for the night as well, smiling to himself. 

In the morning, you wake up laying on your side. The temperature’s dropped considerably since last night, but you’re not cold. Or at least your back isn’t. You feel a weight on your side, drooping over your stomach. Looking down at yourself, you see Arthur’s arm. He’s spooning you, even though he’s still fast asleep. You smile and lay your head back down, feeling content. 

You shift a little and that’s when you feel something pressing against your lower back. You move again and suddenly realize what it is. You blush but this is the perfect opportunity. You start moving your hips, grinding your backside against his morning wood. His arm moves, pressing you further against him. You’d like to turn around and reach into his pants, but he’s pinned you so tight you can barely move except to keep on rubbing your butt against him. 

He sighs, his nose coming up to rub against your neck. “Mm, what ya doin’?” he says quietly, though he knows exactly what you’re doing. 

You grin and turn your head, your lips finding his. He chuckles against your lips, his arm squeezing you a little more. “Just trying to make you feel good,” you say between kisses.

He chuckles again, but then his hand drifts from your stomach to your pants. He unbuttons them and slips his hand down into your slit. You’re already wet, no surprise there, and he rubs his fingers up and down over your nub. 

“Mm, you feel good,” he says, kissing your neck. He rolls you over onto your back and gently removes your pants. You spread your legs for him and his hand goes back to your folds. He teases your clit for a moment, making you moan, your hips pushing up. He slips a finger into your center, then another. 

“Ya like that, sweetheart?” he asks, pushing in and out. 

You’re biting your lip, but you stop so you can speak. “Please, Arthur. More. I need you.” 

He laughs gently and your hands leave his firm shoulders and you push him so he’s lying on his back. You straddle his hips and unbutton his pants. You reach inside and pull out his hard length. You play with it a moment, one hand pumping his shaft while the other traces his head. His hands squeeze your hips and he begins bucking underneath you. As your finger slides over his slit, he groans. 

“Oh God, darlin’,” he pants. 

“Look at me, Arthur.” His eyes open and your hands leave him, going to your shirt and unbuttoning it. You slip it off and then whip off your chemise. You know he likes looking at your breasts, loves to touch them even more. As soon as they’re bare, his hands go to them as your hands go back to his cock. He squeezes your breasts, then his fingers find your nipples. He rolls them, making them stiffen up even more. He sits up and takes one into his mouth, then he begins to lick it, his teeth occasionally grazing it. He loves the way your skin tastes, how your nipple puckers up even more in his mouth. You tilt your head back as he sucks, your other breasts being kneaded by his hand. Your hands are still on his cock, but you slide yourself closer and angle him so he can slide into your folds. 

When he feels himself entering you, he releases your nipple and lays back down. He pushes himself completely into you, your walls spreading to accommodate him. It’s your turn to moan. He pushes himself up once, sitting inside you for a second. He lays his hips back down and then grabs your hips. He begins thrusting into you, his hands guiding your hips to get the best angle. He likes watching how your breasts bounce as he’s making love to you. 

“Oh Arthur,” you pant, your hands planting onto his broad chest as you bounce on his hips. Suddenly he rolls you over again, planting himself right between your legs and angling himself above you. His lips find yours as he begins thrusting himself slowly into you. God, he feels good. As he pumps into you, he pants, his lips moving from your lips to your jaw to your neck. His hand leaves your hip and goes back to your slit, flicking your clit. You push your hips up against his, further stimulated by his touch. 

“Oh God,” you say, your eyes rolling back into your head as heat suddenly blooms in your lower abdomen. You’re getting close, very close. Arthur obviously knows, he begins thrusting harder but slower into you and his fingers start to really grind against your swollen nub. 

Your back suddenly arches, your head tipping back as your orgasm explodes. You dig your heels into the back of his thighs, your toes curl and you dig your fingernails into his back. You grit your teeth as your orgasm reaches its peak. Arthur kisses your neck as you writhe beneath him. 

Finally you come back down, feeling like jelly underneath him. He’s still bucking into you, chasing his own release. You start kissing him back, your hands winding into his hair. You gently pull it. He groans again and his hand comes up to stroke your nipple again. His rhythm becomes less rhythmic, his hips snapping against yours. You clench your walls around his cock a bit, and that does it. He thrusts one last hard time, his seed spilling into you. 

“Fuck,” he moans against your lips as his own release ebbs away. You smile and kiss him again. He gently pulls himself out of you, making you wince a bit. He rolls over onto his back and you slip into the crook of his arm, your hand winding into the hair on his chest. You lay your head on his sweaty chest and you kiss his skin delicately. His hand settles on your side, his fingernails gently tracing over you.

He tilts your head up so he can kiss your lips again. “Okay, darlin’. I think I wanna tell everyone about us. I’m tired of hidin’ this.” 

“It’s about time, Arthur,” you say. You kiss him again. “Thank you. I’ve been getting tired of hiding this with you. I don’t wanna hide what we have, not when it makes me feel so good.” 

He smiles. “Me too. Now how about a second round then we go tell the others?” 

You smile and slide over him again, feeling excited. You’re definitely ready to take your relationship further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked what you read, leave a kudos. Better yet, leave a comment! They're my bread and butter.


	45. Depressed Arthur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: What's good, dear writer? I hope you're safe out there. Can you write reader cheering Arthur up from his own depression or bad days? I feel like it's always Arthur having to cheer us up, so why not turn the tables? Thank you.

Arthur sits in the meadow of Big Valley, staring down the long lake of grass, the small stream winding its way through it. He’d asked you to come down here with him to hunt, that was his excuse anyways. The reality of it was that he just wasn’t feeling good, mentally anyways. He just wanted to get away from camp, from Dutch’s incessant prodding, even from Hosea. He hadn’t really wanted to be completely alone though, he knew having company would be good for him. That was why he asked you to come along, that and he harbored a crush on you, though he’d never tell you. 

He’d been the one to suggest you both split up in order to be more efficient. You knew something was wrong, though didn’t really know how to approach him about it. You figured he just needed some space, so you agreed and went off to hunt on your own. 

Arthur looks up to the sky, wishing these dark feelings would leave him. He feels numb inside, like he’s just incapable of feeling anything except this sense of dread, and there’s a longing inside him that just wishes he could go to sleep and not wake up again. It is an awful thing to feel. He sighs heavily, not knowing what to do or what will happen next. He puts his head in his hands and takes this quiet moment to break down where no one is looking. 

He cries for several moments, partway wishing someone was there to comfort him but partway glad no one is. As he cries, the pain in his chest just grows until it feels like something’s coiling up tight inside him and making it hard to breathe. He clenches his hands in his hair, pulling on the strands and yanking several of them out. He doesn’t care though, this physical pain is preferrable. 

After a few moments, the tightness in his chest lessens and he can catch his breath. That’s when he hears your soft voice calling his name. 

You’d been off hunting on the other side of the meadow, but you’d looked his way to see how he was doing. You saw him sitting in the grass, his elbows on his knees. This was unusual for him because it seemed like he was always going. You rarely saw this man stop and take a break. That mixed with his closed-off behavior from earlier really clued you in that something was wrong. You’d approached him slowly and heard his sobs, which broke your heart. Arthur’s the best man you know, despite his sins. It hurts to see him looking so miserable and broken. That was when you called to him. 

His sniffles stop and he looks up and back at you, blinking his watery eyes. He feels shame rip through him as you slowly approach, though your face says you’re not judging him. You look worried. 

“Are you okay?” you ask, feeling rather stupid for doing so. Of course he’s not. 

“Y-yeah,” he says, turning away so you won’t see the tracks of tears. “Just… I don’t know. I can’t explain it.” 

You sit down next to him, your knee brushing up on his . You’re going to let him decide how close you can get. You fold your hands into your lap and face the same direction he’s pointed. 

“It’s okay, Arthur. It’s good to let it out sometimes. It’s the only way to stay sane, really.” 

“I never been sane, Y/N,” he says, looking down in his lap. 

“Who truly is? The fact that you don’t think you’re sane says you’re more so than you think. Besides, it’s not healthy for anyone to bottle up their emotions. Go ahead and let them out. But just know that if you want to talk, I’m listening.” 

That breaks him even further and more tears leak from his eyes. He knows you’re the best listener in camp. You’re very quiet around the others and don’t say much, but you listen very well. Arthur finds it rather encouraging that you’re one of the few people he’s met who listens not for the sake of how you’ll respond to the speaker, but to actually listen. It gives him a sense of peace around you, knowing you’ll truly hear him. 

“I just… I feel hollow, if that makes any sense. Like whatever was inside me is gone. It don’t feel good. I’m a bad man, Y/N, I know that, and I know that someone like me don’t deserve to feel good.”

You’re silent for several seconds but then you speak, still staring off down the meadow. “I think you’re too hard on yourself, Mr. Morgan. This world isn’t made of black and white, good and evil. Look around and you’ll see a vast variety of colors. People are the same. We’re complicated and constantly try to contradict ourselves. You say you’re a bad man, you kill and rob people, but I’ve seen you help so many folk. And many of them have been complete strangers. I’ve seen men society calls ‘good’ stroll right by those in need without batting an eye.” 

“But I just don’t feel nothin’,” he says. “It’s like I’ve gone numb on the inside. I just wanna feel again.” 

This is when you finally look at him. “I know what you mean, Arthur. I’ve felt that way many times.” 

“How do you deal with it?”

You smile softly and then look down the meadow again. “I look around me and name all the things I find beautiful. That patch of blue flowers there. The pronghorn doe just down by those trees nursing her fawn. The way the clouds look. I can see them, Arthur, I wouldn’t be able to if I were dead.

“Listen to the world. The way the wind whispers in the grass, the trees. That eagle over there, wonder if he’s found something to eat. The horses eating.”

You pause and shift your hand so it’s close to his on the ground. He doesn’t seem to notice as he listens. 

“Pay attention to what you can physically feel. How the sun warms your skin, how the breeze feels on your face. I don’t know about you, but I feel a rock under my butt.” 

He smiles, despite himself. That’s when your hand winds around his. 

“My hand in yours. How does it feel, Arthur? Is it warm? My fingers are calloused just like yours. How does it physically feel?” 

He blinks several times, thinking about all the things you’ve just said. You go on to tell him to pay attention to all his senses, to really get a feel of what’s around him. He realizes he feels a little less dark inside, more at peace. 

“But I still feel like I wanna die sometimes,” he says, sinking down again.

“No, you don’t. There’s a part of you that you want dead, Arthur. If I were to take you onto a boat and throw you into Flat Iron Lake, what would you do?” 

“Well, I’d try swimmin’ to shore,” he says flatly. 

“Exactly. You’d try to save yourself, not allow yourself to be drowned. You don’t want to die, you just want to kill a part of yourself. That’s natural for everyone, Arthur. There are parts of me I want dead too.” 

“I don’t want nothin’ about you to change,” he says, squeezing your hand. 

You smile at him. “And that’s my point, Arthur. Your personal demons are just as much a part of you as your angels are. They help to make you who you are. And your demons aren’t necessarily something people want gone from you. There isn’t a thing I’d change about you either.” 

You look at him and smile. He feels a weight lift from his chest and he releases your hand only so he can slide next to you and take you in his arms. This takes you by surprise, but you let him. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t wonder how this would feel, but it’s far better than you could ever imagine. He buries his head into your shoulder and lets more tears slide out. You stay quiet, folding your arms around him too. One hand goes into his hair and you brush your fingers through it. 

After several moments, he relaxes his hold and pulls away. He looks at you and smiles, no longer ashamed of the moisture on his face. 

“Thank you, Y/N.” 

“No need to thank me, Mr. Morgan,” you say. You lean up and kiss his cheek. His hands are still on your sides and he doesn’t remove them, almost like feeling you helps to ground him. You end up climbing into his lap and laying your head on his chest. He quietly adores it, you make him feel alive. He wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked what you read, leave a kudos. Feedback is greatly appreciated!


	46. Reader shoots Micah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hello ! Can u write an imagine where Arthur s/o kills Micah and she is banned from the gang. Would Arthur follow her ? Thank u :)

(Author’s note: Arthur doesn’t have TB) 

It’s already been a long, exhausting day and it’s not even midday yet. You hate it here, always will without a doubt. Beaver Hollow is just a complete shit show and the gang has seriously deteriorated. 

You miss how things used to be. You can remember how everyone was: Mary-Beth and Tilly giggling over romance novels, Sean bragging about how tough and smart he was, Uncle’s jokes, Hosea’s stories about his past and how he always added a note of wisdom. Oh Hosea. He was just another casualty of Dutch’s plight against modern America. 

Everything’s changed since Hosea died and the boys returned from their tropical trip. Javier doesn’t sing or play the guitar anymore, no one laughs, people fight constantly. It’s a burden and a pain to be in the camp nowadays, and you hate it. The person who’s changed the most though is Dutch. He’s not the caring, almost paternal figure who was just struggling slightly to help everyone get back on their feet like he was right after the Blackwater mess. Now he seems to be on a suicide mission and intent on taking everyone in the gang with him. 

The worst thing about the whole situation is Micah. He’s always known how to butter Dutch up but when Hosea was around, he kept himself in check. Now that Hosea’s gone, he’s been in Dutch’s ear the whole time and you haven’t liked it. You’re not the only one; Arthur and John have been suspicious about the whole thing. 

Arthur’s faith in Dutch has been severely shaken. He questions Dutch much more than he ever used to. Dutch doesn’t like it, and he keeps on lying, saying he’s going to get everyone out. All he’s done is killed Cornwall, blown up a bridge, brought Pinkertons closer to camp than ever and used the war between the army and the Wapiti into his favor, even getting the chief’s son locked up during a feud. 

Arthur walks over to your tent after donating a deer to Pearson, who’s drunk again. He’s been coming to you to talk a lot more lately, though you’re not sure why. You’ve had a crush on Arthur for ages but never acted on it. You two have been friends for what seems like forever and you refuse to destroy that over some silly feelings you have. You’ve wondered if Arthur has a crush on you too. It’s just the way he acts sometimes, things he says. The way he wanted you to come with him to tell Mary he didn’t want to be her errand boy anymore. The way you catch him staring at you sometimes. How he always wants you to go off hunting with him but won’t invite anyone else. 

Just as he’s about to say something to you, Dutch calls him over. Arthur gives you a yearning look and then turns around to go see him. A few moments later, someone catches your attention, pulling you away from your work, with their voice. It isn’t Arthur, though or even John or Mary-Beth. It’s Micah. 

“Ah glad to see you’re putting an effort into keeping this place running. We can use all the help we can get,” he simpers. 

“The fuck do you want, Micah?” you snarl. 

Micah’s always been a pebble in everyone’s shoes but now with Hosea out of the way and Dutch going crazy, he’s been acting like he’s in charge of things. He keeps badgering people to do their chores (which most of them have been) and that everyone needs to pull their weight. This doesn’t bother you, what does bother you is the hypocrisy of it all. He never does a damn thing. The last job he helped with was murdering Cornwall but you felt he did it out of a personal interest and less of a needs-to-be done basis. 

“Always gotta be so bitter,” he says, smiling. “You know, if you were a little nicer, people might actually like you. Too bad nothing can be done to make you pretty though. Unfortunately you’ll just have to stick to nice but ugly.” 

You throw down the sewing you’d just been doing and stand up, marching over to him. He wisely takes several steps backwards as you whip out your pistol. 

“Give me one more goddamn reason, you cockroach,” you hiss. “I won’t hesitate to kill you.” 

He whips out his own gun and points it at you. “You don’t have the guts, little girl.” 

“Wanna bet? You ain’t the first person I killed, though I’m not sure I can really define you as a person.” 

By this time, your argument has attracted the attention of many of the others. They form a circle and watch, but no one dares interrupt. You get the feeling that most of them want you to kill him. The majority of them have had problems with him too. 

“Woe!” Dutch says, walking over with his hands in the air. “There is no need to have guns drawn in camp. Both of you fools, put them away.” 

He stands next to Micah and glares from him to you. Arthur stands a few feet behind him and shakes his head at you, clearly trying to stop you from doing something reckless.

“She started it, Dutch,” Micah says, his gun still drawn. 

“Bullshit! You’re the one going around insulting everyone. Trust me, if I don’t shoot you now, someone else will. Like Lenny said back in Colter, when you fall there’ll be a party.” 

“Watch your mouth,” he growls. “Keep flapping your gums and you’ll end up just like Lenny and Hosea. Better yet, maybe you’ll get your head shot off like good ol’ Sea-”

Before he can finish, he’s silenced by your bullet slamming into his neck. He sputters and drops his gun, grabbing at his gushing neck. People start yelling and Javier and Bill grab you, making you drop your gun. 

“Let go of me!” you scream as Micah falls to his knees. Dutch glares at you, clearly shocked. As Micah slumps down onto his stomach, he stomps towards you. Javier and Bill hold your arms tight and you can’t fight them off. 

“You know the rules, Y/N,” Dutch says quietly. “There’s absolutely no reason to shoot anyone in camp unless they’re traitors.”

“How do you know Micah wasn’t a traitor, Dutch?” you snarl. “Ever since Guarma, those damn Pinkertons have been nipping at your heels more than ever.” 

Dutch lowers his brow. “I’m going to give you five minutes to get away from here. Never come back, Y/N. I never want to see you around here again.” 

Javier and Bill let you go, but you look around, silently pleading with the others to help you. No one does and your eyes finally fall onto Arthur. His mouth is partially open but his eyes say he wishes you hadn’t done it. He says nothing though, and you feel your stomach drop. Of course he’d choose Dutch over you. He’s known him for twenty years and Dutch saved his life. You’ve only known him a few years and maybe helped him get out of a few scrapes. You’ve got nothing on Dutch when it comes to Arthur. You don’t blame him either. No matter what kind of mess Dutch has gotten everyone into, Arthur’s been doing his best to keep things together. All you’ve done is create a bigger mess for him to clean up. 

You know it’s time for you to leave. There’s no doubt in your mind that Dutch is just crazy enough to kill you, and the clock is ticking. You push your way between Tilly and Karen and go to your tent, packing everything up quickly. You feel everyone’s eyes on your back until Grimshaw barks at everyone to get to work and for Charles and John to get Micah’s body taken out of camp. You throw everything onto your horse and then run off down the path, feeling your heart break. You’ll never see any of them again, not even Arthur. Your best friend and the man you love will never be part of your life again. 

********************************

It’s been three weeks since you were forced to leave camp. You’ve gone back west, back to where you’ve always belonged. You’ve found a small cabin not too far from Aurora Basin in Tall Trees. When you first arrived, the cabin had clearly been abandoned for a long time. You cleaned it up and made it habitable. You’ve decided to hang up the hat on being an outlaw. The Pinkertons won’t be coming out this way looking for the Blackwater robbers, not when they know exactly where Dutch is, so you’re safe out here. Besides, you weren’t even involved in that mess, so no one will associate you with that. 

It’s been lonely but peaceful out here. No more having to rob people, no more feeling like you’re chasing your own tail in Dutch’s crazy schemes. No more having to worry about anyone else besides yourself. You’ve missed them though, all of them. You miss joking with Tilly and Karen, discussing books with Mary-Beth, listening to Javier’s stories about Mexico. Even Pearson’s cooking since you’re not much of one yourself. 

More than all of that though, you miss Arthur. You miss the sound of his voice, the conversations you had during long hunting trips. He was the only person you could tell anything to. There were many nights you spent under the stars with him and even a few curled against him to keep out the cold. You miss the way he smelled, the way he’d hesitatingly touch you. You two were a perfect hunting team, you were able to track and kill prey without hardly saying a word. You try to settle with the idea that you’ll just have to reminisce in the memories of him but to forget a future with him in it. Not that you had much hope for that before. Arthur may have told Mary to take care of herself from now on, but you always knew he;d never go for you. 

You’ve been fishing in the lake for some time and gotten hardly any luck. You sigh and decide to call it a day, collapse your pole and pick up your almost empty bucket. You head up the road, feeling lonely and missing the company of your family. When you round the bend leading to your cabin, you look up and see a familiar face. 

“Arthur?” you say quietly, not sure if he’s really there or not. 

He rubs his jaw and looks at you, clearly searching for the right words. You stop and look for him, your stomach clenching. Has Dutch sent him? Dutch said you only had five minutes to get out of camp, but not that he wouldn’t hunt you down. The only reason you can think that Arthur’s here is because Dutch told him to find and kill you. You hover your hand over your gun, hoping you won’t have to use it. 

“Arthur, please let me explain,” you say. “You know Micah was just making things worse. Let’s just put this all behind us, okay? Just tell Dutch you killed me, at least do me that favor.” 

“Dutch didn’t send me, Y/N,” he says softly, his hands on his gunbelt. He takes a step towards you but stops when you back up, clearly worried. He raises his hands. “I ain’t here to hurt ya, darlin’.” 

Darlin’? He’s never called you that before. He’s always addressed you by your name. If you didn’t know Arthur, you’d think he might be lying and pretending to be harmless, but you know him too well. He doesn’t lie. 

You blink heavily, feeling your eyes water. “Why else would you be here, Arthur?” 

He sighs and takes another step towards you, his hands still up. “Y/N, I ain’t followin’ Dutch no more. You said it weeks ago, he’s gone crazy. He didn’t get better when you left either. Micah might not have been around to stir him up, but he’s just gone worse. He was real angry when Charles and I went and broke Eagle Flies out of jail, tryin’ to clean up his mess.” 

Arthur goes on to say how the army tried to kill Chief Rains Fall for the oil on his land and how the gang went to help try and save Eagle Flies as he went to get revenge for his people. By the end, Arthur got trapped beneath a soldier and nearly killed. Dutch had been the only one there and could have easily saved him, but chose not to. When Arthur confronted him about it, a huge fight broke out between them and Arthur decided he’d had enough. He snuck John, Abigail and Jack out that night and then decided to find you. 

“I knew you’d come out west, Y/N. You’re too much like me, this is where you’ve always wanted to belong.” 

“But why would you want to come after me, Arthur? I understand why you left, but why come after me?” 

He lowers his hand and walks up to you until he’s only a couple feet away. “Because I care about ya, Y/N.” His gruff voice is soft, sending shivers down your arms. “Because you’ve always tried to help me. If you’d been there, I know you woulda saved my life, not leave me to die like Dutch did. I did everything I could for him, even almost died for him multiple times. I gave him everything I had and got nothin’ to show for it. I’m done, darlin’. I want to be with you.” 

Your entire body is shaking as he talks. He closes the distance between you and wraps his arms around you. What little strength you had holding you together crumbles and you sink into his chest, tears leaking out of your eyes. 

“I’m sorry I weren’t there for ya when you killed Micah,” he says, rubbing your back. “To be honest, I was happy when you killed Micah. He’s been a giant thorn in my side since he showed up and I’ve wanted to shoot him myself since Sean died. I was just shocked that you’d done it so quickly. I shoulda gone with you when Dutch forced you out.” 

You shake your head into his shirt. “No, it’s good you didn’t. If you’d left with me, Dutch would have hunted both of us down. He knows how essential you are to everything, he wouldn’t like it if you left with me.” 

He sighs and leans his cheek against your head. “Well, I’m here now, darlin’. If you’ll have me, I’d like to stay with ya as long as I possibly can. You’re my best friend and…” He pauses so long you look up at him to find his cheeks red. “I gotta be honest, Y/N, I’ve been sweet on ya for years.” 

It’s your turn to blush and you smile. “Really? Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“We had things so good, Y/N. We been friends so long, worked so well together, I didn’t wanna ruin that. Besides, I know you wouldn’t have feelings for me. I’m just an old, dirty outlaw. I ain’t worth no one’s time.” 

You grimace at him. “Arthur, I hate how poorly you view yourself. You wanna know what I think about you?” 

“I suppose, though I doubt it’ll be anythin’ good.” 

You sigh and stretch up, placing your lips against his. They’re soft, though slightly chapped. He tenses up when you touch him but after a second he responds. His lips move with yours and you trace his with your tongue. After a moment, you pull away. He’s cheeks are darker but he’s smiling. 

“That’s what I think of you, Arthur. I’d love it even more if you decided to stay with me. I’ve been sweet on you for the longest time, it’s been so hard for me to keep it out of our relationship. I just didn’t wanna ruin our friendship.” 

He smiles in and leans in to kiss you again. You feel the first surge of excitement and happiness since you got kicked out of the gang. You can’t wait to see what the future has in store for you now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked what you read, leave a kudos or even a comment! I love feedback.


	47. Arthur thinking about reader's tiny waist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Thinkin bout Arthur putting his hands around fem!readers waist (maybe he's helping her off a horse or smth). His fingers almost touch and his brain almost short-circuits, throughout the day he kinda just mimes holding her waist but when he's alone in his tent he gotta relieve👏that👏tension!!!

Arthur just can’t stop thinking about you. About your hips and waist specifically. You’ve only been in the gang for a couple of months and he’s already grown an interest in you. One he’s been careful to bury. He’s never touched you though. Not until today. 

You’d been off with Javier and Hosea, pretending to be the daughter of a wealthy man in order to rob some rich folks. The robbery required you to wear all the appropriate clothing, including a corset. You came back with the others but struggled to get off your horse due to the tightly cinched corset. Arthur, having spotted your difficulties, came over and put his hands up to offer his help. You smiled at him and accepted it. He put his hands on your tiny waist and helped you down. He could feel how tiny you were, his fingertips nearly touching. He set you down gently, trying to hide his awe. You kissed his cheek in thanks and then headed off. 

He spent the rest of the day purposefully grabbing anything that’s similar to your waist, trying to recreate the memory. Nothing came close to it though, only adding to the frustration. He just wants to wrap his hands around you again, but he won’t do that to you. He doubts you want him to ever touch you again. He managed to hold it in until he’s alone in his tent that night. 

When it’s finally late enough to justify him going into his tent, he closes the flaps. Luckily it’s not unusual for him to do this, so no one will suspect a thing. He takes off his hat and lays down on his cot, his mind filled with thoughts of you. He holds his hands up in front of him, trying to feel you through memory. Of course it’s not as good as the real thing, but the memory’s enough to cause a twitch in his pants. He knows if he doesn’t satiate this thirst, he’ll be much more likely to lose control. 

He undoes his pants and reaches his hand in to stroke himself. He grows harder, but it’s not as good when it’s his own hand doing it. He closes his eyes and pretends it’s you touching him. It works well enough and he grows firm in his own hand. He feels his stress ebbing away as he gets closer to his climax. He slows down on his pumping and slides his hand down to the head, focusing on the sensitive skin and the slit. He rolls over at the last second and spills his seed onto the grass below his cot. He grunts loudly as he does this, the last of his tension shooting out of him. 

He lays down on his back again once he’s empty, but he still wishes it’d been you who brought him there. He clears his mind and ends up falling asleep. 

In the morning, when he approaches the fire to get some coffee, he finds you standing there alone, sipping your own cup. He clears his mind of the things he’d thought about you the previous night. He’ll take that to his grave. 

You give him a friendly greeting and then give him a knowing grin. “Were you feeling alright last night? You sounded like you were struggling with something.” 

He knows he’s blushing, but he just rubs the back of his neck, hiding his eyes beneath his hat. “Oh I was just havin’ a hard time with my blanket. Ya know when ya get in a fight with your own sheets? Well that was my predicament last night.” 

“Uh huh,” you say, still grinning at him. You walk up next to him and whisper in his ear. “Well, next time your blanket gives you a hard time, come talk to me. I’ll help you sort it out.” 

You walk away, swaying your hips and then look back to find him staring, his mouth open. Arthur feels himself grow excited. Maybe he’ll have to ask you to help him with his blanket problem tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live for feedback (even constructive criticism)! If you liked what you read, leave a kudos.


	48. Don't let him kiss you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hello deary, I have a request to make. Let's have a bit of fun with Arthur, yeah? Reader does that " Don't let your boyfriend kiss you " challenge on him. He does everything he can to get a kiss but the reader playfully avoids every attempt. You can have him come close to almost kissing her but she turns her head and has him kiss her cheek, and he gets upset but she finds it amusing, loving how worked up he gets for a kiss. He then asks what does he need to do in order to get one and she tells.

Arthur’s a funny man, there’s no question on that. He’s a very thoughtful man when it comes to trying to find ways to please you. There’s one problem though: he keeps trying to do things that are uncharacteristically him. He does things to make you happy that, while you enjoy them, he doesn’t. Unlike his ex Mary, you don’t want him to do things just to please you. 

The first few dates with him had been fine, a little odd as they always are with both people feeling incredibly self conscious. Despite you having been in the gang and been friends with him for a long time, he was so cute and nervous during that first date. He blushed and stammered a lot. Even now, You like flustering him, he always gets that embarrassed little grin and his cheeks go pink. 

You’ve kissed him, oh, probably a hundred times. However, your relationship with him is still in the dark as far as the others in camp know. You’ve played things very close to the belt, not wanting anyone to know just yet. Neither of you are really ready for anyone to know (Hosea does, but he’s been good on his word and hasn’t said anything). Both you and Arthur know now isn’t a good time for people to be worried about your relationship, what with being on the run from the law and Pinkertons breathing down your neck. It was hard enough hiding your desire to be physically close with Arthur up in Colter where it was so cold. It’s not much different here in Horseshoe Overlook. 

Arthur comes up to you just as you set out the morning coffee. He greets you and grabs a cup. 

“I was thinkin’ we could go to town today,” he says, setting down the percolator. “Maybe get you some new clothes or find a new book for ya.” He knows you love to read, but you also know that while he can read well, it’s not his favorite thing to do. 

“Or we can do something you like,” you suggest. It’s frustrating to watch him take care of everyone else, including you, and completely disregarding his own needs. 

“Nah I do plenty to keep myself occupied,” he says, sipping. “Like yesterday, when I came back from hunting. I had a good ol’ trip, met some interestin’ people.” 

“And that’s something you have fun with?” you say skeptically. “Arthur, you hate people.” 

He chuckles. “Well, I ain’t fond o’ most of ‘em, few are a’right.” 

“And hunting? I know the only reason you do it so often is to get away and get into the wild open. But I also know that can be terribly lonely. Not exactly what I call fun.” 

He smiles, his cheeks growing slightly pink. That’s how you know you’ve hit it on his head. 

“You know me too well for your own good,” he says. He checks to make sure no one’s looking then he bends down to kiss you. You’re not going to give him that satisfaction though, so you turn your head and his lips meet your cheek. 

“Awe, come on, darlin’. Just a small one before everyone else wakes up,” he begs. 

“Nope, you gotta earn this one, Mr. Morgan.” You pat his shoulder and start walking off. He follows behind a few steps. 

“So how do I do that?” he says. 

“I ain’t makin’ it that easy for you, Arthur. You’re smart, you’ll figure it out.” 

He stops and just watches you walk away, his hands on his hips and he smiles. You know how to play him, but unlike his ex, you don’t use it to your sole advantage. 

Over the next few hours, he tries a few different tactics. He brought you your favorite flowers and even bought some expensive chocolates (both earned him another kiss on the cheek but not one he really wanted). He offered to go find a new book for you again, to which you just shook your head. He invited you on a hunting trip to West Elizabeth, which he knew you liked a lot. Your resolve almost crumbled when he asked you to go to Big Valley, bathe in the sun, pick wild flowers and herbs and then lie in the open starlight and watch the skies. Again though, it’s not something that will only benefit him. You want him to ask you to do something or go somewhere that will be for him. He needs to take care of himself. 

Just past noon, he finds you behind a wagon, hidden from sight of the others. He grabs your hand, taking you from your work. He tries to kiss you again, but you just dodge out his grasp with a playful smile. 

“Darlin’, I will do whatever you want,” he says softly. “Hell, I’ll walk into the middle of this camp and declare my love for ya right now. Is that what you want? I know you’re gettin’ tired of hiding.” 

You put your hands on your hips. “While tempting, Arthur, that’s not what I want. Have you really not figured it out yet?” 

He shakes his head and puts his hands up. “I gotta admit, no I ain’t figured it out yet.” 

You smile again. “Well, think back to our conversation this morning, it’ll come to you.” 

He just sighs and walks away. As he does, you hear him muttering something about the mysteries of women. 

********************************

It’s sunset and you’re sitting on the edge of Horseshoe Overlook on the cliff gazing out across the canyon and its river. You’re watching the first faint stars coming out as the sky grows darker. Arthur sits down beside you, having just finished his stew. 

“You gonna relinquish yet?” he asks with a smile. 

You grin back at him. “Never. You figured it out yet?” 

He just looks away, his lips stretched into a small smile. “Maybe. I ain’t too sure, not like my streak is good. But, I had an idea.” He reaches into his satchel and pulls out his journal. You’ve never looked inside it, nor have you asked him since it’s no mystery he’s a very private man. He holds onto it tight and then undoes the straps. He flips it open to a page that has an incredibly detailed drawing of a piebald stag. He lets you inspect it, though you know he’s nervous. 

“I never knew you could draw, Arthur,” you say softly, admiring the strokes. 

“Just somethin’ Hosea taught me, and… I taught myself some too.” 

He hands the book to you and allows you to flip through the pages, even reading some of his entries. You admire his writing, he writes with a beautiful hand. You smile and look at him. 

“It’s beautiful, but why you showin’ me this?” 

“Because I love you. Because… I want to be able to be completely open with ya, darlin’. Hide no secrets, share my fears with ya.” 

This is big of him. There’s hardly a person in the world you truly knows the depth of Arthur Morgan. Even around Hosea, he plays the big dumb brute that many people see him as. You’ve known for a long time how sweet, gentle, intelligent and caring he is. In fact, he probably cares too much about the people in the gang. 

You gently close the book and hand it back to him. He’s so damn close to earning that kiss, but you feel as though he has more to add. He takes the journal and puts it back in his satchel. He lays his hand on yours and looks out across the canyon. 

“I was thinkin’,” he says slowly, “maybe tomorrow, you’d come with me. Help me find some… some colored pastels.” 

“What for?” you ask. He’s growing hotter. 

“I always wanted to experiment with ‘em, think they’d make my drawin’s better. It’ll be a trip though, probably have to go all the way down to Saint Denis to find ‘em. Valentine won’t have ‘em, I know that.” 

“Arthur Morgan, are you asking me to help you find something for you?” you say. 

He sighs and smiled, looking at you finally. “I guess I am. I know it’s selfish, but-” 

You cut him off with a kiss. Not one on the cheek or even on his hand like you’d done earlier. Right on his warm, slightly dry lips. His hand goes up to your cheek and he moves with you. After a moment, you pull away from him. 

“This is all I wanted,” you say. “It’s not selfish to take care of yourself just as well as you take care of everyone else, Arthur. You deserve to be loved too.”

He smiles, his thumb tracing over your cheek. “I don’t know what it is you see in me, but I’m glad you do.”

He hesitantly leans in, looking for another kiss, and you give it to him. He moves closer to you, moving you so you’re nearly in his lap. His strong arm winds behind you, his hand planting against your lower back. You loop your arms behind his neck, trapping him against your lips, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Neither of you care if anyone else sees you, tangled around one another like this. 

After a few moments, you pull away slightly breathless. You slide your hand over his cheek, feeling his scruff scrape your palm. He puts his hand over yours.

“I just want you to take care of yourself, Arthur. I love you, and you should love yourself too. I know you’re a good man, despite your mistakes and sins. You’re too hard on yourself.” 

He kisses your palm lightly. “I don’t know what I’d do without ya, honey. Probably end up dyin’ within the year if it weren’t for you.” 

You kiss him softly again. “That’s not happening on my watch.” 

He smiles. “Good, feels nice to have someone watchin’ my back. So we’ll go tomorrow when I get back.” 

“Get back?” you say, pulling away slightly. 

“I won’t be gone long. Just have to go collect another one of Strauss’s damn debts. From some do-gooder named Downes. I won’t be long.” 

“You better not be. Just as long as he doesn’t kick your ass. Know some of these debtors try to.” 

He grins. “If you’d seen this man, you know he won’t. There’s no way that man is takin’ me down.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated! Don't be afraid to tell me what you think (even if you didn't like what you read).


	49. Wherefore Art Though Arthur?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: could you maybe write something about Arthur falling in love with a rival gang member? like a bit like romeo and juliet or something, you can choose the ending, thx :)

You’ve been running with the O’Driscolls for many years. Most of your life, really. Ever since you were a young teen. You’d been living with your parents and older sister in a cabin on the border of Ambarino and New Hanover. When you were thirteen, you had a habit of dressing like a boy even though you’re a girl. You just preferred the more comfortable, free moving clothing that boys wore and you kept your hair short to spite your mother. She’d been trying to push the woman’s lifestyle on you and you were just not having it. In order to rebel against her, you cut your hair so it was only a few inches long. 

Your father didn’t care how you looked or dressed, he thought you should do what felt right. He taught you how to hunt and shoot a gun when you were young, and he did this with your older sister as well. She didn’t take to it as well as you did as she didn’t like getting her hands dirty. She was too much like your mother and you were like your father. He was the one who bought you pants and button-down shirts to wear and a hat to shelter your eyes and head. 

It was the combination of your clothes, hair and that you always seemed to be covered in earth or dust from the road that saved your life. At the age of fourteen, the O’Driscolls came to your cabin one night. It was only a small group of them, but Colm O’Driscoll heard a rumor that your father was wealthy and just pretended to be poor for the sake of appearances. 

This was true as your grandfather had been a railway magnate until he’d been forced out of his business and decided on a simpler, less stressful life. He’d left his fortune to your father, who decided to hide his inheritance. Your family lived on a small ranch, which made it easy to pretend like you had just enough to get by. But somehow word had slipped out about your family’s money and Colm came to steal it. 

Colm and seven of his men barged their way into your cabin. They shot your father only seconds after breaking the door down, then your mother. Colm’s men grabbed your sister and dragged her off into the night. You never saw her again, though you still sometimes hear her screams when trying to sleep. Colm looked hard at you and thought, because of your appearance, that you were a boy. 

“You’re gonna be one of us, boy,” he said in his oddly soft voice. “You’re gonna be one of us or end up like your daddy.” 

You just nodded and went with them. You were forced to join the gang but you knew the consequences for trying to run. Of course, you also continued to dress like a boy. As you grew, you started growing your hair out to respect your mother in her death. Luckily plenty of Colm’s men had longer hair, so they suspected nothing. That changed when you started to grow older and parts of your body visibly changed. You had to wear a tight wrap around your chest, but there was nothing you could do about your wider hips. You managed to threaten a tailor to make a duster with padded shoulders to make them look bigger and hide your feminine figure. 

Years passed from when Colm destroyed your family and you stayed in his gang. You would have left when you were close to twenty, but you knew what would happen if you deserted. One boy made this mistake and Colm hunted him down and within days of him leaving, Colm killed him. The matter of his death was neither easy or quick, so you knew if you left, the same thing would happen to you. 

Of course it wasn’t easy being in Colm’s gang. Since you were smaller than most the others, you got picked on a lot and you got stuck with some of the more unpleasant tasks, like shoveling horse shit and cleaning up after the others. 

Shortly after you were incorporated into the gang, you’d heard of Dutch Van der Linde and his boys. You only knew his name and that he and Colm were rivals. Every once in a while, you’d hear about them interfering with one another’s work, but whenever you asked why Colm had such a fury towards Dutch, the others would just tell you to shut up. You thought for a long time that Colm detested this Dutch just because he was another gang leader and they happened to cross one another frequently. 

You’ve been in the gang more than ten years now. Ten long, miserable years. You want nothing more than to get out, but to do so means your inevitable death. You also know it can take mere seconds for Colm to figure out you’re a woman. He doesn’t like women in the gang, says they only slow the gang down. If and when he finds out, he’ll happily put a bullet in your head. 

Colm has never liked you much. You think the only reason he brought you into the gang was because you were a child. Maybe Colm has something against killing kids or maybe he just thought you might have potential. You don’t take his malcontent personally. He doesn’t like most the men he runs with, only keeps them around because they’re good with guns and sometimes manage to pull a score successfully. 

You’ve climbed up in his ranks though. You had no choice. In order to survive and to hide your gender, you learned quickly. Even though you knew how to shoot a pistol and a varmint rifle, you had to learn how to shoot a bigger gun. So you taught yourself. Colm’s boys taught you the craft of acting mean, targeting people and robbing them. You were good too. Perhaps it was just your feminine intuition on how to play people since you couldn’t physically fight too well because of your size, but you had a knack for tricking people and robbing them blind. Colm appreciated this and you moved up quickly. 

You hate him though. No matter what he does or how much money you get through him, you hate him. You’d like nothing more than to slit his throat while he sleeps. But you’re afraid of him too. The first time you’d ever seen him was putting a bullet in your father and then killing your mother. You know he had something to do with your sister and there’s little doubt in your mind he ravaged her and then killed her too. Only a monster could be capable of that, to orphan a child and then force them to work for the one who killed their family. 

You walk into the bar in Valentine, thirsty and sore. The past few days have been hell. For some dumb reason, Colm decided a couple weeks back to move the gang up to some fallen apart town near Colter. Then you all got trapped there during a blizzard. He’d been out with some of his boys when the blizzard hit. He came back with his right hand man, a fat man with a bushy beard named Hoskins. The others never returned, but Colm figured the idiots had gotten lost and died in the snow. 

He told you and some of the other higher ups that you were all up here to rob a train owned by Leviticus Cornwall. You’d heard the name of course. He was a big, but impossible target. Cornwall was known to go after any idiot who robbed him with a vengeance. Colm told you all to stay up here for another couple of days before the robbery. Then he sent one of the newer members, some fidgety nervous guy named Kieran, out to scout for the train. He left and told you and some of the others to go hunt some game to keep everyone fed. 

You split off from the others and managed to find a deer grazing out in the frozen wilderness, but when you came back to the hideout, it was littered with corpses. Only a few men were left standing. When Colm returned and found out the plans for the train robbery had been stolen, he lost it. He hit one of the other men right in the face. Only you seemed to notice that the kid, Kieran, hadn’t returned, but you said nothing. 

Colm set his hands on the back of a rickety chair and glared into a lamp. 

“There’s only one fella stupid enough and bold enough to steal a score from me. Goddamn Van der Linde. Well, I have a surprise for him. This is the last time he steals from me. I heard he and his bunch are wanted in Blackwater. Hoskins, you’ll help me find a way to get him.” 

You rarely saw Colm after that, but he moved the gang to Hanging Dog Ranch in Big Valley. He ordered you and the others to hunt for new scores and for the whereabouts of Dutch and his boys. 

You’ve been riding for days with hardly any sign of either gang. That’s why you’re in this shit hole of a town Valentine. Always muddy, always smelling of shit. You rap on the bar and order a beer. You’re in need of a bath, but you need to go back to camp tomorrow. You’ve been gone long enough and they might start to think you’ve deserted. Despite your hatred towards Colm, you do feel a strange sense of obligation towards him. Despite him having destroyed your family and livelihood, he taught you how to fight, how to rob and how to get away with it. Perhaps that’s just a lie you tell yourself. Maybe the only reason you’re loyal to him is because you’ve been part of his gang most your life. 

Just as you’re finishing your beer, the doors swing open and a man walks in. You only glance at him for a second and spot his leather hat and blue shirt. He stalks towards the barber’s seat and gets his hair and beard trimmed. After he’s done, he comes and leans on the bar not too far from you. He orders a beer as well. 

Something about him intrigues you. It’s rare for you to take an interest in men, and in this town he’s not out of style. Hell, he’s covered in dirt and his clothes are years old, from the looks of them. Still, he has this force and presence that drags your attention to him. You study him for a moment. 

He glances over at you and your eyes meet. He’s got stunning blue eyes. You blink and look away. You both ignore each other and buy a few more drinks. After your third, you decide that’s enough and start to head out. Just as you leave the bar, you collide with the man. 

“Sorry,” you say, forgetting in that split second to make your voice sound deep and gravelly. You’re usually so careful, but when you’re not around the gang, it’s harder to maintain. 

The man lowers his brow, clearly confused. “It’s alright, mi… well, can I call ya miss?” 

He looks you up and down, clearly confused. After all, your disguise is very convincing. 

“Sure,” you say. “Long as you don’t tell no one else.” 

He huffs a small laugh. “And who’d I tell that I met a young woman who looked just like a young, very small man?” 

You smile. “I guess no one.” 

He tips his hat. “You have a fine day, sir.” He gets on his horse and rides off. 

************************

You’ve bumped into this man a few more times since that first meeting. You found a mutilated corpse under the railroad and he did too at pretty much the same time. Another day, you stumbled upon a strange rock carving near the Cumberland River and he showed up only seconds later. Another time, you were just heading back to Hanging Dog Ranch and you saw him in the big meadow skinning a pronghorn. You’ve never crossed paths with a stranger so often. 

You’re in Valentine again and just heading over to the train station. A couple months back, you bumped into some annoying feller who offered you money for bundles of cigarette cards, and you’ve finally found enough that they might be worth something. Hopefully this idiot wasn’t pulling your leg. Just as you’re about to reach the doors, they open and the man you’ve met a handful of times comes out. 

“Excuse me, sir,” he says, then stops. His eyes rake over you and he smiles. “Again? How many times you and I gonna cross paths?” 

You smile. “Don’t get the impression that I’m following you, that’s not what’s happening.” 

He smiles back. “Course not. Well, don’t let me keep ya.” 

You’ve never been a big believer in fate or destiny, but the fact that you’ve run into this man so often has got to be more than mere coincidence. As he starts walking over to his horse, you turn. 

“Sir, we keep bumping into each other. Now I don’t believe in divine interference when it comes to people and their lives, but… there’s gotta be a reason we keep running into each other. Let me buy you a beer.” 

He grins. “That’s awful kind o’ ya, miss. Guess I can grab a drink. Though not Smithfield’s. Bar owner ain’t too keen on me right now.” 

You agree and go to the smaller, quieter saloon in Valentine. You make good on your promise and buy him a drink. There, you both get to talking and introduce yourselves properly (though not entirely honestly). 

“So tell me,” Arthur says, setting his bottle down. “Why’s a girl like you dressin’ like a man? Judgin’ by how well you do it, my guess is you’ve done it a long time.” 

You sigh. “It’s…. It’s a long, boring story. Let’s just say it’s safer for me to dress like this than a woman. No offence, but men have a disgusting habit of targeting women because we’re the weaker sex.” 

He smiles a bit. “Yes we certainly have a habit of doin’ that. However, I know you’re leavin’ somethin’ out.” 

“How would you know?” 

“Because,” he says, “you’re way too vague and you’re the only woman I seen dressed like this. So what’s the real story?” 

You know you can’t tell him about Colm’s gang, but perhaps you can just tell him a vague bit of the truth. 

“I run with a bunch of boys who aren’t too keen on runnin’ with women. Guess they don’t really like us, I don’t know. In order to keep on runnin’ with ‘em, I dress like this. They buy it well enough.”

“Don’t seem like a particularly good bunch if they can’t handle you bein’ a lady. Why don’t you just leave?” 

“It’s… it’s complicated,” you say, hiding your eyes beneath your hat. “Let’s just say they ain’t keen on people abandoning them.” 

He doesn’t press further and then he thanks you for the drink. You kind of hope you don’t see him again, he already knows too much about you for your own safety. 

Just as you’re leaving Valentine, Colm and Hoskins bump into you. 

“There you are, you son of a bitch,” Colm snarls when he sees you. This is a usual greeting so you think nothing of it. “Saddle up, boy. We gotta go to Six Point.” 

“Why?” you say, mounting up on your horse. 

“I left Lowman and McCann up there with some of the others. They were supposed to stash the money from that stage robbery and meet us at Hangin’ Dog. I ain’t seen hide nor hair of ‘em. Little bastards better not be dead drunk.” 

You ride with the two to the cabin Colm sometimes uses as a hideout. You find the other men scattered around, dead but not drunk. Colm’s furious again and he kicks a bucket halfway across the site. He investigates the cabin and finds the money gone, as well as a double-barrelled shotgun he had mounted up on the chimney. 

“You, boy,” he points at you. “You stay here. Get this shit cleaned up, and stay here until I come for you in case the shits who did this come back.” 

“You want me here alone in case a possible group of expert gunman come back?” you say, not liking the odds. 

“Yeah, don’t be yella. Just do what you’re told. I’ll come get ya in a few days.” 

***********************

What Colm said would be a few days has turned into a few weeks. He’s had you stake out places like this before, so you know the drill: sniff out any possible leads from the closest town. While you’ve been trying to dig up clues, you bump into that Arthur Morgan time and time again. 

The first time you did since buying him a drink, he offered to buy you one. After that, whenever you meet, you both go for drinks and get to know one another a little better. It isn’t long before you start to feel a sense of friendship towards him. He’s just as vague on his lifestyle as you are, but you don’t push out of respect. Before long, Arthur asks you to meet him in places to go hunting. He seems to like the company. 

After one particularly long day, you part his company in Valentine and return to Six Point. You spend the next couple of days missing him. You miss him more than anyone else you’ve ever known and that’s when you’re hit with it: you like him. 

The next time you meet, you try to keep things cool between you and him, but you can’t help but stare at him. He is handsome after all. Plus you know that while his temper can be quick to flare up, he can be incredibly gentle and caring. There was one time you both stumbled into a cabin where the occupants had died due to a fire. The cabin was relatively intact and it looked like they’d died from the gas. Arthur picked up a pen and a children’s book. When you questioned him on this, he just smiled. 

“I have a couple of friends who mentioned they wanted a pen and a book like this.” 

“Ah, so if I was to ask you to fetch me somethin’, would you get it?” you ask before you could stop yourself.

“Of course. Anythin’ in mind?” 

You were almost surprised, but happy. “Now that you mention it, I wouldn’t mind a watch. I accidentally dropped mine and it broke a couple days back. Haven’t had the chance to replace it.” 

He smiled and promised to bring you one. The next time you saw him, he had it. When your fingers brushed his, he blushed. Was it possible he had something for you too?

From then on, your relationship with Arthur changed. There was just a sense of electricity between you both, like you were magnetized. You went from purposefully bumping your hand into his to touching his upper arms and shoulders to brushing his hair when he had his hat off. It wasn’t long after that when you had your first kiss. It had taken you completely by surprise.

You’d both been drinking heavily that night and you were doing everything to control yourself with him. You’d been more attracted to him than ever, but you weren’t sure if he liked you too. However, in your drunken phase, the candlelight hit him just right and you just leaned over and kissed him. He was taken by surprise, but when you started to pull away, he stopped you and crashed his lips to yours. 

After that night, the two of you met almost daily, even if it was just for five minutes. Arthur kissed you as often as he could. It didn’t take long before the two of you finally made love. You’d been out hunting and it rained hard, chilling you both to the bone. You were both forced to strip down to your undergarments as your clothes had been soaked. You nestled close to one another and one thing led to another and you ended up sleeping with him. Arthur was more than satisfactory in bed, he knew how to push buttons you weren’t even aware existed. He seemed pleased with your performance as well. 

After having sex with him, you start to feel guilty for hiding so much from him. You’ve made love to him several times now and you feel incredibly close to him. More than anyone else you’ve known. He makes you feel like you don’t have to hide, you can be yourself. Perhaps now is the time you open up about your past. 

You meet Arthur in the saloon, where you always arrange to meet. You’ve made up your mind when you walk up to him. He smiles when he sees you and wraps an arm around you. He kisses you softly, not caring who might be around to see. 

“Well, should we go off huntin’ or do you wanna hit the hotel first and have a little fun?” he asks with a small growl. 

You blush a bit. “I’d love to go have some fun, but… we need to talk first.” 

His smile fades, but he nods. You feel even more guilty, the poor man probably thinks you’re going to break up with him. You take his hand and lead him outside to your horses and mount up. You lead him away from the town where you won’t be overheard. 

You dismount and Arthur follows suit. He walks over but doesn’t touch you, clearly under the impression you’re going to end things. 

“Arthur I… I feel I owe you an explanation,” you say, looking at your feet. “I haven’t been honest with you. Most of the things I’ve said have been little less than lies.” 

He furrows his brow, clearly taken aback by this. You look up at him. 

“I don’t want to lie anymore, Arthur. I’m….” you prepare yourself for the worst. Most men you can think of would be upset at dating an outlaw. “I’m an outlaw. The boys I run with are a gang.” 

He sighs and smiles. “Jesus, darlin’! You nearly scared me to death!” 

You look at him in shock. “What?”

“Honey, I don’t care that you’re an outlaw. You wanna hear one of my secrets?” He grabs your hands and leans in. “I’m an outlaw too. I run with a gang. Men, women, even a kid. Not my kid, course, but he’s a good boy.” 

You smile up at him, your gut feeling considerably lighter. “Oh thank God. Can I ask which gang?” 

He scratches the back of his neck. “I run with Dutch Van der Linde.” 

Your heart skips a beat. “Van der Linde?” you say.

He nods. “Somethin’ wrong?” 

You swallow. “Possibly. Arthur, I… I run with the O’Driscolls.” 

He lowers his brow and his eyes widen. His hands let go of yours. “The O’Driscolls? You run with those assholes?” 

“Arthur, I can explain. It wasn’t really my decision and-” 

“Save it,” he growls. “Your gang has caused nothin’ but heartbreak and anger for my gang. Van der Linde is like a father to me and Colm killed his girl.” 

“And Van der Linde killed his brother!” you say. You’re not really sure why you’re getting defensive, but you know one thing: Arthur has a huge problem with your truth. 

“Word is Colm hated his brother more than anyone else,” Arthur snarls. “But he killed Dutch’s girl. They were gonna get married! And you run with those fools? I can’t even tell ya how much trouble you’re bunch has caused us?” 

You blink away some tears. “I thought… Arthur, I thought you wouldn’t care. Just because I run with them doesn’t mean I’m like them. I hate Colm more than you can know, but I can’t get out.” 

“No one’s forced to do nothin’. You can leave whenever you want. But I’m gonna tell ya somethin’, Y/N.” His eyes darken and he squares his jaw. “If you choose to stay with them, you and I can’t be together no more. I refuse to be associated with a goddamn O’Driscoll.” 

You lower your head and look down. You want nothing more than to leave, but if you do, Colm will butcher you. “I want nothing more than to run away from him, Arthur. But… he’ll kill me.” 

He sighs heavily. “So you’re gonna choose to be a coward. Well, forget about things with me then, Y/N. I refuse to waste my time on an O’Driscoll.”   
His words sting and he marches over to his horse, mounting up and leaves. Out of all the things that could have happened when you decided to come clean, this was not it. Your chest suddenly tightens painfully and your stomach just feels like it’s gone. You take a step over to the cliff’s edge and sit down. You’ve never despised your gang more. They’ve taken everything from you. Your family, your freedom, and now your lover. You can’t say you blame Arthur for leaving and you can understand his loyalty to his gang. He’s also right about you and you feel like a coward. 

After a bit, you get yourself up and ride off to Six Point. When you get there, you finally let yourself cry. How can you go on with your gang now? You’d been so happy with Arthur, happier than you’ve been in years, and now it’s gone. Life with your gang seems even darker than before. 

*************************

The next day, Colm comes, but he doesn’t want you to return to the gang’s hideout yet. 

“Turns out Van der Linde was behind the massacre here,” he says. “Only one way he could’ve known about this place. That coward Kieran must’ve been behind this. I also heard a rumor.” He glares at you. “One of my boys said he saw you talkin’ with a fella named Arthur Morgan. You know he’s one of Dutch’s boys, right?” 

You swallow. “Yes. I was merely telling him this is our turf and he should get lost.” 

“I see, though I doubt it. From what my boy was tellin’, you looked like you were friendly with him. More than friendly even. I can handle one of my men feelin’ attracted to other men, as long as they don’t act on it. But I will not accept anyone falling for a Van der Linde, you got me, boy?” 

You nod your head. “Yes, sir. I am not attracted to Morgan, but I understand.” 

“You always was a bad liar. Now I need to go somewhere for a few more days, but when I come back, you’re comin’ with me. Now if I hear you’re fraternizing with any more of Dutch’s boys, you ain’t gonna like what I do to ya.” 

With that, Colm stomps out of the cabin and rides off. You’re left shaken. “Goddamn it, Arthur,” you say quietly. “Why must you be… you?”

****************************

Two days later, you’re still at Six Point. You haven’t left the cabin since Colm threatened you. You’re sure he’s staked out some of his men in Valentine to keep an eye on you. As far as Arthur goes, you’ve heard and seen nothing. You miss him more than you care to admit, but you’ve already given up on ever seeing him again. He made it perfectly clear how he feels about you. 

You’re beginning to wonder if running and taking your chances would be worth staying with Colm. After all, it’s not like you get much money from his jobs and you’re no more safer staying than you are running. He’s turned around and shot his men several times over stupid things. You weren’t one of them out of mere chance. More than that though, you’re tired of hiding. Hiding who you are and what you look like. 

Just as you’re beginning to think of a plan of escape, where you’ll go and what you’ll do, a knock comes on the door of Six Point. It’s not Colm. He never knocks. Perhaps it’s just a weary traveller in need of shelter from the torrential rain outside. You readjust your high bun and put your hat back on, pulling the masculine disguise back together. 

When you open the door, you don’t find a traveller. Arthur’s standing on the porch, his hat in his hands. 

“What are you doing here?” you say quietly, trying to cover your emotions. Your voice is surprisingly steady. You fold your arms around yourself, waiting for his anger. 

“I came to apologize for the things I said, Y/N,” he says softly. “I know I made some assumptions without botherin’ to ask you if they’re true. I know you ain’t runnin’ with Colm out of affection. He’s the reason you gotta dress like a man, I’m guessing.” 

You nod and take your hat off. “Yes. If he ever finds out, I’m dead.” 

Arthur purses his lips a bit. “Well, darlin’, I… I’m wonderin’ if I can propose somethin’ to ya.” He waits for you to respond. When you don’t, he goes on. “I was thinkin’ you could abandon Colm, come with me into my gang. You’d be the safest there.” 

You look up at Arthur. “Does Dutch know? Does he know that I’m an O’Driscoll?” 

He sighs. “I told him about ya. He knows. He… weren’t too happy when I told him how I feel about ya. But I told him you’re little more than a prisoner with Colm. You’re only loyal out of fear.” 

You sigh and turn around to face the interior of the cabin. “I’m guessing it’s not enough to convince this Dutch to let me in. He’ll probably question my loyalty to him as well.” You turn and look at Arthur. “If I stay here, I’ll remain a prisoner. But if I go with you, I’ll still be a prisoner. Arthur, I’m trapped no matter what I do.” 

He walks in after you. “Not if I have anythin’ to say about it. It ain’t like I’m bringin’ ya in against your will. I got a lot of weight in my gang, Y/N. If I say you’re stayin’ and you’re alright, Dutch will listen to me. It’ll help a lot when he sees how useful you are to have around. Just help with the work and you’ll be accepted soon enough. I ain’t sayin’ it’ll be easy, but it might be the best chance you have.” 

He waits for you to respond. He’s right, of course. You know you’re already walking a thin line with Colm and it’s only going to get thinner. Arthur may very well be your salvation and, like he said, within the ranks of Colm’s greatest enemies is where you’ll be safest. 

“Do I have to keep on disguising myself?” you ask. 

Arthur smiles. “Absolutely not. We got plenty o’ women in camp and none of ‘em are ashamed of looking like women.” 

You smile and reach up, undoing your bun. It feels good to let your hair flow down just past your collarbones. You run a hand through it, aware you need a shower. You quickly change into a set of more feminine clothes, which you bought with Arthur a few weeks back. After washing your face, you look hardly recognizable from the man the O’Driscolls think you are. You’ll be able to slip past them easily enough.

“Okay, Mr. Morgan,” you say. “Take me to Van der Linde.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are a writer's bread and butter. If you liked what you read, leave a kudos!


	50. Caught in the act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hi!! Could you write about Arthur and reader getting caught in the act by, idk Abigail or Hosea?? It sounds so weird I know but my mind has gone curious during quarantine:)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for smut, if it isn't obvious.

It’s just past noon and it’s already been a long day. You’ve been stuck in camp all day, courtesy of Susan Grimshaw. She went off on you last night for spending too many days outside of camp, hunting and scouting with Arthur. She claimed you weren’t helping enough in camp, so she said if you left for the next three days, she’d butcher you. 

You didn’t take her seriously, of course, but you knew if you didn’t at least somewhat obey her, she could get very nasty. You sigh heavily as you rub your fingers raw on the washboard, scrubbing another dirty shirt. You don’t mind being stuck in camp, Horseshoe Overlook is a beautiful place. You also definitely don’t regret going out with Arthur so much lately. 

The two of you have been having a secret relationship for weeks. He just isn’t ready to reveal it yet to the gang, as most of them still think he’s quietly in love with Mary. You were worried about that too until he got that letter from her just before your last outing and he took you with him to see her just so he could tell her to forget about him and leave him alone, that he wasn’t her errand boy. 

Arthur’s a sweet man hidden beneath a rough exterior. You’ve never known anyone like him. He’s strong and fierce enough to protect you, but he’s also gentle and thoughtful. One of his first gifts to you was a drawing he’d done of your favorite flower, as he’d seen you picking them. You told him how much you loved the drawing and ever since he’s given you a dozen more. 

You go out hunting with him a lot, and while you do a lot of hunting, you also use the time away from camp as an opportunity to be intimate with the outlaw. Not just sex either, though that frequently happens, but to just hold him and feel his arms wrap around you, for you both to be open and tell each other your thoughts. Despite the short amount of time you’ve been together, the two of you have already become extremely close. Of course, you were friends long before you were lovers, so it’s really not surprising. 

The one thing you regret about the last hunting trip is that you didn’t make love to Arthur. Not that you wouldn’t if he asked, he just didn’t and you weren’t in the mood to initiate. Now though, something’s gotten to you and you can’t stop thinking about sex. You’re a bit uncomfortable, even now, as you feel like you just need a good round with Arthur to settle you down. He’s not in camp though, he left this morning to collect a debt from a woman named Lily Millet. You hate his debt collecting, maybe you’ll convince him to stop doing them. You know how much he hates it. 

As the day continues, you only get more riled up and anxious. You can’t stop your mind from wandering to previous encounters with Arthur, especially that one day in Colter. You’d both been cold and stiff, and Arthur came up with the idea to use a small shed on the outskirts of the town to warm up. Despite the freezing temperatures, you two could have melted the snow in the whole town with what you did to each other. The memory of it doesn’t help you settle down now, it only seems to make it worse in fact. 

You thought about taking a ride on your horse, but it wasn’t just the thought that Grimshaw might skin you that prevented you from doing so. If you go anywhere with that much bouncing, it’ll be agony, especially since there won’t be any penetration. You think about maybe going into your tent or by the river and taking care of yourself, but somehow you know it just won’t be enough. You need him. 

Arthur returns not too long after you finish the laundry, which is surprising. That pile never seems to shrink. You watch him go and greet Hosea, praying he’ll make his way over to you. You’re sure he will, he always does. You wipe your sweating hands on your jeans, antsy for him. He’s talking to Hosea for too long. He needs to get his ass over to you. 

Finally, you see him do his cute two-finger salute in farewell to Hosea and make his way over to you. You’re standing just behind his tented wagon, which is out of eyesight from the others. At least it’ll make good cover for you to try and convince him to help you out. As soon as he’s within feet of you, you leap on him, attacking his mouth with yours. 

He chuckles against your lips and then pulls you away. “Hey, darlin’. What’s gotten into ya?” 

“I need you, Arthur.”

“Need me for what?” You can’t tell if he’s playing coy or not and it’s infuriating. 

“I need you,” you say. You’re not really sure how to say what you need so you make sure no one is able to see the two of you and then you get closer to him and squeeze the bulge of his pants. He quickly sucks in his breath, his hand tightening on your back. 

“Oh,” he says, finally clicking in. He looks around. “Well, we can go to town, get a room-”

You shake your head and explain the problem with Grimshaw. He rubs his chin and looks around again. “Tent ain’t gonna work at this time of day.” His eyes wander over in the direction of the river. “Come on, I think I know a place.” 

He leads you off into the trees. Once you’re not in sight of the others, he grabs your hand and walks faster. You’re shaking now, anticipating what’s about to happen. He takes you to the bottom of the hill, far enough away from camp that you won’t be heard and out of sight of the trail running by the river. 

He finds a little nook in the vegetation, clear of rocks, and then he pins you against a tree. 

“So you need me, huh?” he growls in your ear, his breath hot in your neck. 

“Please, Arthur,” you say desperately. 

He chuckles in your ear and starts kissing your neck. You tilt your head back, knowing you’re soaking your undergarments already. His hands slide down your back and to your front, undoing your belt and pants. He doesn’t even hesitate and rips your pants down, helping you step out of them. You can feel the goosebumps on your legs, and it’s unclear if they’re from the cool air or if it’s from him staring at your patch of hair as he kneels down. You wonder if he can see how wet you are. 

He stands up and kisses you again, your hand going to his shoulder. His hands settle on your hips, but then one goes to his pants and he whips his length out. It’s only semi hard, so you start moving your hand towards him. He stops you by sliding a hand through your fold, making you gasp. God, you’ve needed that stimulation. Already, you feel a bit weak in the legs and he hasn’t even started yet. 

“Damn, you’re wet. That for me?” he grunts in your ear. 

You’re breathing hard. “Oh, Arthur. Please.” 

He laughs softly in your ear and he slides a finger through your folds again. He’s teasing you; he knows that you need more pressure and more friction there. 

“Arthur,” you whine. He smiles mischievously and then he starts pumping himself, his length growing harder. The vein running down his cock becomes more prominent as it grows stiffer. You start to drool a bit. 

When he’s erect, he closes the distance between you, grabs your knee and wraps your leg around his waist. You groan as he does, and then he slides his firm cock into your opening, spreading your walls. 

“God,” you groan. “Oh God.” 

He kisses your neck and pushes himself as deep as he can. He sits inside you for a few seconds and then finally, gratefully, he pulls himself out a bit and then slams himself back in. He begins bucking, finally helping you to satisfy that craving. One of his arms is firmly wrapped around your back, pinning you to him so he can fuck you as hard as he can manage in this position, while the other hand moves from your knee to your rear, squeezing the cushioned flesh. 

“Arthur,” you groan, “deeper.” 

“Damn, girl,” he says. There’s only one way he can perform your request. He pulls out long enough that he can lay you down into the grass on your back. Then he spreads your legs, gazing at your pussy. His eyes go up to yours and he smiles. Without warning, he shoves himself back into you, making you moan. 

As he thrusts, you lift your hips up to give him a better angle and he goes into you all the way to his girth. His head brushes your spot and then he decides to end you by sliding his hand into your folds, rubbing your swollen nub. It takes only seconds of him brushing it and you’re gone, your toes curling as you dig your fingernails into his back. 

“Arthur!” you squeak, trying not to scream. He chuckles, still kissing your neck as he chases his own release. 

As you pant beneath him, you don’t hear the telling signs of someone approaching until you hear them muttering. 

“Damn fool of a man. Can hardly call himself a man! Worst mistake I ever made!” 

You slap Arthur’s back, trying to get his attention to the approaching audience, but he doesn’t seem to hear them as he pushes himself in and out of you. 

“Arthur!” you say with gritted teeth. 

The voice is getting louder and still Arthur isn’t stopping. His hand even goes up your shirt and squeezes your breast. 

“Arthur, someone’s coming!” you whine. 

“What?” he says, pausing just long enough and you can hear footsteps. 

Before he can pull out and the two of you can arrange yourselves into innocent positions, Abigail comes into view. Your stomach drops, but she isn’t faced in your direction. You and Arthur are in full view to her and there’s nothing you can use to cover your joined hips. You just have to hope that she heads off and doesn’t hear you. 

Her back’s to you and she glares off into the distance. You and Arthur watch her with baited breath. Arthur starts reaching over to a bush to try and grab a thick branch to try and cover yourselves. He’s going to make too much noise, you know it. Before you can hiss in his ear to not do it, he grabs it and inevitably, the leaves shake and hiss. 

Abigail, attracted to the noise, turns and her eyes land right on you two. “Oh God!” she screeches, turning away and clapping her hands over her eyes. Arthur quickly pulls himself off you and covers your legs as much as he can with your jeans, stuffing himself back into his pants. 

“Abigail!” you gasp. “I’m so sorry! We didn’t think we’d get caught out here!” 

You see her shake her head, her hand still over her eyes. “Sorry I came this way. John and I… I needed to get away from him.” She starts going back up towards camp, her face red. 

“Shit,” you say. You didn’t even have the chance to ask her not to tell anyone. Arthur puts his hand back on your hips. 

“You mind if we finish?” he asks after a minute. You know it’s foolish to do what he wants, but he deserves his release. You look up at him, slide your pants off your bare legs and then shove him. He falls onto his back and you grab his pants, ripping them down. His cock immediately points up as he smiles at you. You slide your hips over his, sliding him into you and sinking onto him. 

As he begins bucking again, you reach down to him and rip his shirt open. You stroke his chest, it’s firm and hairy in just the right places. You run your fingers over his left nipple and his hands squeeze your hips. He’s getting close, but he’s staring at you hard, almost as though disappointed. 

“What?” you ask, panting from his actions. 

“We seem a little uneven, don’t we?” he says, gesturing to your shirt. 

“Arthur, we’ve already been caught! We need to hurry this up and do some damage control.” 

“All the more reason. I’ll go faster.” 

You smile, kind of turned on by the idea that someone might see. You’ve never been into having an audience, but when it comes to having sex with Arthur, you don’t care the circumstance. You unbutton your shirt and then lift up your chemise, exposing your bouncing breasts. You take them both off, not caring that you’re completely naked now. His hands reach up and stroke your nipples. He starts thrusting harder and faster in response. He’s going so hard that you can feel yourself building up for a second release. 

Suddenly he thrusts himself hard up into you, his cock shooting his seed into you. He pushes himself into you once, twice more and then pulls his softening length out. 

“Arthur, I’m… I’m not done,” you groan. 

“Thought you wanted to do damage control?” he teases. 

“Just quickly, please. I can’t wait.” 

He sits up a bit, keeping you on his lap. One arm tightens around your back while the other hand slides up into your folds. He starts rubbing your clit and his lips go to your nipple, sucking on it. You start grinding against his hand and he shoves two fingers into your clit. His thumb stays on your clit, pushing it and rubbing it raw. His tongue massages your nipple, his teeth grazing the firm nub. 

“Arthur!” you hiss, your hands winding into his hair and pulling it a bit. His hand in your slit starts moving faster in response, building you up. A bubble of heat starts in the bottom of your ribs and then slides down to your hips. He rubs your clit again and then the bubble moves down to your opening and bursts. You push your hips against his hand and you tilt your head back, scratching his shoulders. 

You’re panting hard when you finally come back down. Arthur slips your nipple from his lips and kisses you on the lips. 

“That enough for now, girl?” he asks. 

You nod. “For now. But I’m sure I’ll need this again tonight.” 

He grins and kisses you again. “We can do that.” 

You both get up and get yourself dressed. You dry yourself off with some harmless leaves. You and Arthur walk back up to camp, releasing your entwined hands when you get into view. You have to find Abigail. 

It doesn’t take long to find her. She’s sitting near John’s tent, Jack playing nearby. 

“Abigail, can we talk about… what you saw?” you ask, your face turning red. She grins up at you. 

“I thought you and Arthur were together. Just didn’t think you were that far along.” 

You sit down on the crate next to hers, making sure no one can overhear you. “Yeah, I just… needed some help. You know how it is.”

She just grins. 

“You won’t tell anyone, will you?” you ask, holding your breath. 

“Course not. But when camp ends up with another Jack, it’s going to become horribly obvious.” She winks at you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked what you read, leave a kudos, or better yet a comment! I love feedback from my readers.


	51. Taking a Risk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hey, could I send a request? Me and Arthur were told to go to Saint Denis by Dutch but my high bounty makes it hard to go through the streets. When a lawman starts walking down the alley we are in, Arthur's first idea was to make it look like there was 2 people making out so he didnt know who we were. Also could you maybe add some smut? Like we start just doing it in the alleyway. Thank you!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of rape, smut

You’re nervous. How could you not be? Any moment, you could be arrested or shot. It helps to have the toughest gunslinger you know striding by your side, but still. He’s one man against an entire force of cops. You’re not worth him dying. 

Dutch had demanded you and Arthur come to Saint Denis to stake out a job about a river boat with a high stakes poker game. Normally he would have sent Trelawney out to find out about it, but God knows where that man is. Since Arthur will be the lead in the job, Dutch sent him to go find out about the boat. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time when Dutch said Arthur might need someone to help. He looked over, saw you and volunteered your aid. 

You haven’t been in Saint Denis in years. Not after that incident. It’s not just because your face is probably still plastered on every main street in the city. It’s all the bad memories. How you were marked as the criminal when it was you who was wronged. 

Arthur must feel how tense you are as you walk beside him. He pats your shoulder. “You a’right? You seem nervous.”

“I am,” you say, your eyes darting all over the road. You asked him not to come down the main street of the city, but he said it was the quickest way to get to the rich end where information was likely to be for this job. 

Down the road, you spot a cop standing by the hotel, his arms crossed. You stop in your tracks and Arthur walks a few feet ahead before he notices you’re not beside him anymore. 

“What is it?” he asks. 

“I can’t be seen by the cops, Arthur, I told you. I… I did something years ago and it was bad enough that I know they’ll all be gunning for me if they find out I’m here.” 

“Damn it.” Arthur looks around, his mental gears turning. “A’right, come with me. We’ll take the alleys.” 

He leads you down the nearest one. Luckily no one is there. There’s plenty of trash lining the walls, crates and barrels lining the backs of shops. A bony cat shoots out from behind one of them as you pass by. 

“What did you do?” Arthur asks as you both walk. 

You sigh. No one knows your story, not because you’re ashamed but because you hate reliving the memories. But this is Arthur. He’s your best friend (and crush). You’ve been able to tell him anything without fear of judgment. 

“I used to live down here for a while, years ago,” you begin. “Just working jobs on my own. Anyways, I was coming down one of the alleyways following a lead and a cop followed me. I thought maybe he was onto me and I was gonna get busted, but I tried to play innocent. He caught me, but instead of arresting me, he… he assaulted me. I don’t think he even knew I was trying to rob some bastard.” 

“Assaulted you?” Arthur says. “How… oh. Y/N, I’m sorry.” He stops and looks at you. You stop too and look up at him, feeling like you might cry. 

“Me too. He didn’t get too far. I managed to pull out my gun and I shot him. Not well enough, he got up and ran away. He started screaming for the other officers, claiming he’d been trying to arrest me and I shot him. Of course, they all believed he was innocent and just doing his job, so they started trying to kill me. I fled, and I haven’t been back here since. I just know though that he told them all that I attacked him, that he did nothing wrong and now I’m labeled as a criminal who almost killed a cop. A criminal, yes, but I never killed anyone before then.” 

“Oh Y/N, I’m sorry,” Arthur says, his eyes soft. He puts a hand on your arm and before you can stop it, you’re hugging him. He wraps his arms around you and rests his cheek on your head. 

Arthur is the only person you hug. What you’re doing now isn’t entirely unusual. You’ve spent so much time alone with him, you know you can trust him. It took a long time to get here, mostly because of what that cop did. Arthur proved he was honorable in that he’d never even think about doing something like that to you. It didn’t take long for you to get a crush on him either, and you’re pretty sure he has one on you too. You’ve been meaning to test it out, but just haven’t found the right opportunity. 

Reluctantly, you pull yourself from his warm grasp. “Come on, we need to keep going,” you say, sniffing a bit. “The sooner we can get out of here, the better.” 

His scent lingers in your nose as you continue on down the alleyway, the flavor of leather, pine and tobacco. He walks a step ahead of you so he can make sure the way is clear for you. You’re tempted to grab his hand, but you resist. 

You approach an opening leading to the main street. Arthur looks down the way and suddenly grabs you, pushing you against the wall. 

“What? Arthur, stop push-”

“Cop’s coming,” he hisses in your ear. 

Your stomach plummets. “Arthur, if they find me, I’m-”

“I know. He’s too close, we can’t run, he’ll hear us. Let me think.” 

He pauses for a moment and then looks at you. “Kiss me. I know a lot of couples come down here to smooch. He won’t think any different of us.” 

Before you can point out you’re not a couple, he bends down and crashes his lips to yours. He’s hesitant at first, but when you wind your arms around his shoulders, brushing your fingers through his hair, he sighs and relaxes. He pushes you back against the wall, his hands still on the wall, trapping you. 

You can hear the officer walking past and you angle your face so that Arthur’s head blocks you from his view. Arthur continues to kiss you. He’s really playing it up, his tongue traces your lips and his hands go to your hips, pressing your body to his. God, you wish he was doing this for real. If he’s this good when he’s pretending, he must be incredible when it’s on purpose. You hear, over the sounds of your breathing and smooching, the officer tut to himself. 

“Hey you can’t be here,” he says, and you hear him take a step closer. You ramp up your kissing, making it even more fervent and loud. Arthur responds, hissing a bit when you bite his lower lip. The officer stops. “Eh, nevermind. Damn lovers, hotel ain’t too far.” He’s still muttering about the annoyances of the public indecencies of couples in love as he walks away. 

When his footsteps fade, you stop kissing Arthur and pull away, but you swear he leans his head in closer as if he wants to continue. 

“That was great acting on your part,” you say, a bit disappointed. His hands are still on your hips and he looks about as disappointed as you feel. Your bodies are still pressed together and you become suddenly aware of something hard pressing into your right hip. It’s coming from his pants. His eyes widen as he realizes what’s going on and you blush. 

“Shit,” he says, taking a step back and turning away, his hands going to his pants and his brow furrowing. You bite your lip. 

“Arthur, you weren’t pretending, were you?” you say.

He looks over at you, his cheeks pink. His face tells you that he wasn’t faking his pleasure. “Sorry, Y/N. Please don’t think I’m a predator or somethin’, or that I planned this.” 

He looks back down, clearly thinking himself disgusting. You take a step closer to him. 

“No, Arthur, I don’t find you creepy or predatory. If I’m being honest, I… I actually find it kind of thrilling.” 

He looks at you in confusion. You smile, biting your lip and take another step towards him. “Can… can I see it?” you ask. 

He straightens up a bit, raising his brow. Did you cross a line? Perhaps he really doesn’t feel for you that way. Just as you’re beginning to overthink things and try to come up with a way to apologize without sounding like a complete idiot, he turns his body to you and takes a step closer to you. He gently pushes you against the wall, one hand pinned next to your head. 

“You sure?” he asks softly. You nod, your breath picking up. You lean up and kiss him in response. He smiles against your lips. “Okay then. I ain’t never done this in public before.” 

“Me neither,” you admit. It’s kind of exciting though, except for the impending likelihood of another cop coming this way. 

Before you can change your mind, Arthur’s free hand goes down to his pants and unbuttons them. He slips his hard length out and you stare at it unashamedly. He’s wide and longer than some men you’ve seen, but not long enough to be intimidating. A large single vein runs down his shaft, ending at his swollen head, dark pink in color with a bit of purple. 

“Can I?” you ask, raising your hand to show you want to touch him. He smiles and leans in a bit closer. 

“Only if I can return the favor,” he growls in your ear. 

You shiver at the response but then grab him suddenly. He jumps a bit, but you’re gentle. You study his cock with your hand and then reach up to the top of his shirt with your other hand. You start unbuttoning it, wanting to see his chest. You’ve seen him shirtless once or twice when he was bathing during hunting trips, but you looked away quickly then, wanting to grant him privacy. Now you know he’ll let you see him.

You push away the fabric of his shirt, your other hand still on his cock and massaging him. He’s panting and you run your fingernails down his chest, stomach and wrap it around his length, both hands now working on him. As one hand pumps, the other gently traces the head, running over the slit. 

“Oh God,” he groans, tilting his head back. His cock twitches in your hand, the slit glistening. His hands raise up and go to your hips and he starts kissing your neck. It’s your turn to groan as your hands continue to massage him. He’s close, you can feel it in the firmness of his length and by the twitching of his hips. You run the tip of your nose from his jaw down his neck and then give him a lick. You’ve always wanted to lick his neck. One hand leaves his cock and runs over his chest, gliding through his hair. You can feel his heart pounding. 

He grunts suddenly and his cock jerks hard, his seed exploding from the tip. He makes sure to aim it at the ground. He gasps as the last of his stream leaves his length, the end dripping a bit. 

“Damn, sweetheart,” he pants. You smile and kiss his collarbone. He wraps his arms around you, pressing you close to his body. His lips crash to yours; he’s holding you so tight he’s almost crushing you. Not that you mind. “Let me return that, darlin’.” 

You nod, biting his lip again. Now your heart is pounding. He unbuttons your pants and slides a hand in. He groans again when he feels how soaked you are, but he’s gentle as he presses his fingers to you. You wrap a leg around his hips, giving him more room to work. He starts to rub your clit, sending jolts of electricity throughout your entire body. 

“Ah, Arthur,” you moan. His hand on your back presses you closer, his lips meeting yours again. His hand moves from your clit to your entrance, a finger sliding in and then another. You hiss a bit as he begins to pump his fingers. You suddenly want his cock in you instead, you imagine he can stretch your walls exactly the way you need. 

“Arthur,” you whine, your fingernails digging into his shoulder blades. “I want… I need…” As you pant against the movement of his hand, he chuckles. He slides his hand out of your slit, making you wince. Just as he’s about to reach for his semi-hard cock, hopefully to work its way into you, you hear footsteps coming your way too late. 

“Hey!” a voice shouts. You open your eyes and stare right into the eyes of an officer. “You!” he shouts. 

Arthur stuffs himself back into his pants, grabs your hand and starts running down the alley, away from the officer. As you flee, you close your jeans and then mount your horse, ignoring the officer screaming at you to stop. You kick your horse into a gallop, ignoring the way your body screams that while the movement is right, there’s no penetration and no friction in the right places. 

Arthur runs behind you, his gun pointed up, but it’s clear he doesn’t want to use it. You leave the hollering officer behind you and you leave the city behind. 

When you’re in the clear, your horses breathing hard as they stand on the trail outside an old shack. Arthur looks at you and grins. 

“Sorry to cut that short, darlin’,” he grins. 

“Ah, ain’t your fault,” you say, adjusting yourself in the saddle. He must be able to tell you’re frustrated. 

“How about you and I head in that shack and finish things up?” 

You smile and dismount. “I’d be mad if you didn’t suggest that.” 

He takes your hand and leads you into the shack. You only feel slightly guilty that anyone passing the shack as the sun sets gets their ears assaulted as Arthur pleasures you late into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly welcomed!


	52. Discovering New Horizons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hi! Would it be possible to ask if you could write about Arthur? I was thinking about Arthur falling for a new member of the group who’s pretty dangerous and has a tough exterior, but eventually Arthur is able to get through and bring out the childish and playful side of her, falling for her tough side and her soft side? I hope that makes sense, thank you!!

You lower your gun, spitting on the man’s body, whom you just shot. His blood seeps into the grass. 

“Horrible man,” you hiss, glaring at his corpse and holstering your gun. You walk back to the wagon where Arthur and John are going through the boxes. John had gotten a tip about this wagon, owned by a popular goods manufacturer. These wagons are always a hit or miss as they sometimes carry expensive items, such as jewelry, paintings, cash and other times nothing but documents, clothes and worthless household items. It’s always easy to determine how valuable the items are judged by the toughness of the driver and his companion. 

For this wagon, the armed companion had been dealt with by John and Arthur, who’d given them quite a mouthful of insults. The driver was a different matter. He’d pretended to be harmless and quickly left the wagon, but when he saw you with the robbers, he went off, stating that no self-respecting criminals would let a girl do any of the hard work. John and Arthur just traded smug smiles and let you handle him. They knew exactly how easily you got fired up. The driver turned out to be too easy of a kill. 

You put your hands on the edge of the wagon. “Anything good?” you say. Arthur, who’s closest to you, sighs and straightens up. 

“Think this company’s gettin’ wise to low lifes like us. There’s hardly worth anything here.”

“Seriously?” you say, looking at the open chests. “But that companion was a hard ass.” 

“Like I said, think the company’s catching on. Way to go, Marston.” 

“How was I to know there wouldn’t be nothing here?” John snaps. “My guess was as good as yours on the value of the wagon.” 

As Arthur opens his mouth to retort, you interrupt. “How about we get the hell out of here before the law turns up? I doubt them gunshots went unheard.” 

The boys agree and they take the few items that are worth stealing, mostly cans of food and bottles of liquor. You unhitch the horses tied to the wagons and let them loose, which John scoffs at and Arthur raises a questioning brow. 

When the three of you return to Clemens Point, Arthur walks over to you as you’re grooming your horse. 

“Can I ask why you do that?” he says. 

“Do what?” 

“Well, I notice that every job with a wagon or a stage, you let the horses go. It ain’t like it’s hurtin’ ‘em bein’ tied up.” 

You pause. You glue your eyes to your horse’s neck when you finally speak. “If I was a horse and tied up like that and my driver died, I wouldn’t wanna be stuck like that until someone found me. I imagine they’d like being able to move around, graze, find some water.” 

This strikes Arthur. He’s seen firsthand how vicious and unforgiving you can be. Hell, there are times you’ve whipped out your gun and shot it before he could even pull his own out of its holster. Sure, he knows you love your horse more than just about anything. He never thought you could care about some horses whom you’ve no connection with.

“Well, I guess when you put it that way,” he says softly. “Maybe I’ll start doin’ it too.” 

You put your brush away. “I honestly don’t know if it helps or not, Arthur. I just imagine they appreciate it, in their own ways.” 

You walk away from him, heading for Pearson’s fire where he’s set out dinner. Your brusque response to Arthur was nothing new. He’s used to your short answers and even your cold manners. However, watching you unleash those horses has got him thinking: is there a soft side to you?

He’d never have thought that before. He’s seen you shoot men who begged on their knees for you to spare them, seen you rip the flesh from small animals after you’ve shot them without blinking an eye. Hell, you can run with the best in the gang. He remembers that bar fight in Valentine. Before he’d gotten tackled by that big fella Tommy he’d seen you pummeling some guy nearly twice your size, his nose bleeding and his eye purpling under your fist. He’d also seen you take your fair share of hits and knows you can hold yourself up after them too. He recalls a couple years ago, not very long after you joined, how one fella you were fighting with shot you in the leg. Despite the obvious pain, you’d gotten up, walked yourself to your horse and rode back to camp without a single complaint. 

He watches you dish up your plate, his mind reeling with the possible complexities of your character. You don’t notice and you wander off to go and eat at the round table. He comes and joins you at the table with his own plate, but doesn’t mind when you don’t start a conversation. Unlike the other women, you’re happy to sit in silence. In fact, you’re much like Charles in that if you don’t want to talk, you’re not going to. Arthur admires you secretly. You’re strong and unmovable, nothing seems to scare you. How many guns have you looked down and you didn’t bat an eye? 

When Arthur sees you’re done eating, he stands up and reaches for your tin to take it. His hand accidentally brushes your arm and you quickly snap it away, your hard eyes glaring at his hand. 

“Sorry,” he says. When you see he’s just taking your plate, you relax and thank him quietly. He has another thing about you to think on. Now that he thinks about it, he’s never seen you touching anyone, not even in a friendly or reassuring manner. Nor has he seen anyone successfully touch you. One time Sean, after making a joke about how frightening you were, he patted you on the shoulder and you immediately pulled away from him. 

When you’d come back to camp with that bullet in your leg, you didn’t make any sound of complaint until Susan and Tilly tried to get the bullet out. Arthur recalls how upset you’d gotten when they tried to touch your leg, and how almost feral you’d become when Karen tried to hold you down so the others could get the bullet out. Arthur knew it had nothing to do with the pain and more to do with that they were touching you. Sure, Arthur’s not used to being touched either, but he’s never known anyone to get upset about being touched. 

Arthur settles down in his cot for the night, his mind still turning with thoughts of you. Despite the years you’ve been running with the gang, he finds that he still hardly knows a thing about you. You’d run away from your family, fell in with a smaller gang that then got torn apart by the law, some were arrested, some were killed and you were one of the few to escape. That was when you fell in with this bunch. But Arthur realizes that other than that and that you’re capable with a gun and an expert horse rider, he doesn’t know a thing about you. 

*********************************

In the morning, Arthur has a plan on maybe learning about you. He’s always been a curious man and your secretive nature only makes him moreso. He looks around camp but doesn’t find you. Your horse is still tied up, and then he spots you on the pier, a fishing pole in hand. Perfect. 

He comes over, making sure you can hear his boots thumping on the old wood. He’s witnessed how dangerous it is for someone to sneak up on you. He takes out his own pole, feigning that he doesn’t have an ulterior motive for being here. 

“Any luck?” he asks. 

“A bit,” you respond, glancing at him. He could swear you smile a bit. 

After a short bout of silence, he rubs his neck nervously, his pole staying still in his other hand. “Hosea mentioned a possible lead in Emerald Ranch. Thought you and I should go take a look.” 

“What’s the job?” 

Crap, he didn’t think you’d ask this question. Most jobs you didn’t ask the nature on, you just went. “Said somethin’ about a train comin’ through, carryin’ some rich folk. I figure we could board at Emerald Station, and as it’s on its way south, we can… take care of the rest.” 

You continue staring out at the lake. “Sounds good. When’s it due?” 

“Couple of days. But maybe you and I could head out early. Pearson was sayin’ he’s gettin’ low on meat.” Another lie, but he hopes you won’t catch on. Besides, Pearson says there’s no such thing as too much meat. Not with how many mouths the gang has to feed right now. When you don’t respond, he goes on. “Heartlands are a great place to go huntin’. Lots of game. Plus, the view is beautiful.” 

“Sure,” you say, collapsing your pole. “We can go hunting. I could use some time away from this place.” 

He hides his smile and then follows you to the horses. You both mount up and head out. It doesn’t take long to reach Emerald Ranch. You both stop there to “scout” the station, though you’re still unaware that he’s lying. He must admit, he’s a little afraid of how you’ll react when you find out there most likely won’t be a train stuffed with rich folk. He knows you won’t kill him, but you’re already so closed off, it might just make you even moreso. 

You walk down the steps of the station, walking towards him as he stands near the horses. “Just talked to the clerk,” you say. “Says a train’s coming that’s heading south in about three days. We’ll have plenty of time to hu- oh, hey kitty.” 

You’re stopped in your tracks by a cat that’s winding its way around your legs. The scrawny tabby looks up at you and gives a cute “brrr”. Arthur watches as a rare smile stretches your face. You bend down and pet the cat, who just rubs over your legs even more in response. You pick it up and it starts rubbing its chin across your cheek. 

“Oh, you’re a sweet one, huh?” you say. Arthur’s never heard you sound so sweet. “Yeah, you’re pretty. Handsome boy like you, you’re a heartbreaker, huh?” 

After a moment, you put the cat down and it walks off, tail pointed straight up. You smile as you watch it walk away. When you look back at Arthur, you see him staring. 

“Sorry. Just… haven’t been able to cuddle a cat in a long time.” You mount up and walk your horse over to the plains of the Heartlands. Arthur watches you go, even more confused. Why is it that when he’s seen a person touch you, you’ve flinched and acted like there was physical pain to it, but when that cat touched you, you willingly accepted and even encouraged it? 

He follows you, his mind reeling even more. 

******************************

That night, you and Arthur make a campfire for the night, several pelts drying under the stars. You reach into your satchel and pull out a thick batch of raspberries to add to dinner as Arthur cooks some meat. He can tell you’re relaxed and content. Now is the best time for him to try and learn more about you. 

“Can I ask ya somethin’?” he says. 

“I suppose,” you say shortly, leaning against a rock. 

“How come you ran away from your family? Most of us who had a proper family left that life because they died.” 

Your hands shuffle a bit in your lap and you stare off into the fire. It takes you a few moments before you answer. “It was just… easier running away than… than staying, I guess.” He waits for you to continue but you don’t. He wishes you’d give more detail. The tone of your voice says you chose your words carefully. 

“You know you can trust me, right?” he says softly. 

You look up at him for a brief second and then look back to the fire. It’s true, you trust Arthur more than the others. Something about his presence has always had more of an impression on you than the others. You don’t respond, but your hands continue to fidget. He knows you’re not going to come out and say things, if he wants to find out more about you, he’s going to have to ask. 

“Why was it easier to run? Did your pa get busted for runnin’ an illegal business or somethin’?” 

You shake your head. “No. No, he ran a legitimate business. He was the sheriff’s deputy, actually. Well respected in our town.” 

“And?” Arthur says after you fall silent again. 

“And what?” 

“What was he like?” Arthur asks. 

“Why do you care?” you suddenly snap. You’ve never been comfortable with people wanting to know about your life. It’s an alien thing to you, for people to want to know. When you were a kid, people really didn’t like you much. They found you annoying and you tried too much to be like them in order to make friends. In school, the other kids were more than happy to shut you out. 

Your home life wasn’t much better. You were the youngest of four children to your family. Your brother was significantly older and he was a bully to you and your two sisters. Since you were the youngest though, he left you alone a decent amount of time. Your sisters were a different matter. They teased you a lot, and they used to chase you around the ranch with sharp objects because they knew it scared you. It also wasn’t unusual for them to hit you out of the blue. 

Then there were your parents. Your mother was nice, but she criticized you a lot. She didn’t like that you weren’t as social as other kids your age. When you told her it was because the other kids didn’t like you, her response was that you didn’t try enough. She made comments about how she thought you could make yourself look prettier, how you should wear dresses more often. She also held it over your head that you would be married one day, despite you having no interest in anyone in that way. When you admitted you never experienced romantic attraction towards anyone, she simply brushed it off and said “you just haven’t found the right one yet”. 

Your father was the worst of the lot. He never took any interest in you (or any of his kids for that matter). He seemed to hate you the most though. When he’d come home from work angry, he seemed to take it out on you, screaming at you, blaming any irritance he had on you. Perhaps it was because you were the youngest, but a feeling in your gut said that he hated you because he’d wanted another son when your mother was pregnant with you. There were times too he’d become physically violent with you. It didn’t help that whenever you became emotional, he’d get irrationally angry and tell you to go hide in your room, that no one wanted to see your tears. 

All those things combined into one shaped you to distrust people. You hated being touched because when you were a kid, the majority of the times you were touched caused physical pain. You also couldn’t relate your emotions to people and you had become detached from them over the years, to the point you found it extremely difficult to cry. 

You think back on these things as Arthur stares at you. He’d been taken back when you’d practically shouted at him. 

“I… I guess I’m just curious is all,” Arthur responds. 

“Well, don’t be,” you hiss, turning back to the fire. Arthur’s curiosity of you is making you extremely uncomfortable. Why should he be? No one else ever was. You sigh, trying to simmer down. “Sorry, Arthur. It’s just… it’s better for everyone if you don’t worry about me.” 

Arthur stares at you for a moment. He can tell that whatever is making you so closed off is causing you a lot of pain. He feels an urge to get close to you, to try and comfort you, but he knows that might just makes things worse. 

“Sorry,” he says. “Guess that’s just my problem. I worry about most people in camp, except Micah maybe.” He sees you chuckle a bit at this, which is an encouraging sign. “Point is, I am worried about ya, Y/N. I ain’t known anyone like you, and to be honest, I ain’t too sure it’s healthy.” 

You look up at him, your eyes wide. You want nothing more than to tell Arthur about everything, but there’s something preventing you from doing so. All you can think is that he’d find you weak and pathetic if he knew. It’s just better and easier to keep it all bottled up. 

You sigh heavily. You have a feeling he won’t stop asking about why you ditched your family until you gave him a reason. “I… I ran away because my family proved they weren’t worthy of being my family. I… I remember reading a book and a character said ‘family don’t end in blood’. I don’t know why, that just stuck with me. When I realized what it meant, I knew that my parents, my siblings… they weren’t my family. I’ve never had the luxury of having one.” 

You look down at your boots, your chest tightening. You know you’re close to getting choked up and crying, but you can’t do that. You can’t let Arthur see how weak you are. 

He finally looks away. “I’m real sorry about that, Y/N. Families are always complicated. And I’m sorry if you felt like I was pressurin’ ya. It’s just… how many years you been with us? I feel like I don’t know the first thing about ya.” 

You look up at him again. “Why would you want to, Arthur?” 

This question strikes him and he knows exactly why you’re so private. He feels a pang for you as he realizes that no one has ever shown any interest in you, that you’ve always been alone. He knows exactly what he has to do for you to open up. 

“Maybe because you’re worth knowin’,” he says. He sees your breath quicken. Are you scared? He goes on, wanting to make you feel comfortable. “Maybe because no one deserves to be alone their entire lives. I don’t know what happened to make you feel that way, and I ain’t askin’ you to tell me. But I just want ya to know that no matter what you think or feel, I’m here. I’ll listen. I ain’t gonna think less of ya.” 

He can tell you’re listening hard to everything he says, that he’s got your mind turning. 

You swallow, wanting to test his words. “I used to have a cat, you know. When I was a kid. He was a good boy. The best in fact. He… he chose me. We weren’t supposed to keep him, but when my ma saw how much he and I loved each other, she convinced my pa to keep him.” You smile as you recall the things he did, how he made you feel loved and how he made you laugh. You start to get choked up again when you get closer to telling Arthur the end. You don’t notice that he’s carefully scooting closer to you as you talk. 

“What happened to your cat?” Arthur asks softly. 

“He got old,” you say. “He was thirteen and one day, he jumped up into a tree and hurt his leg. After that, he just went downhill. He started limping a lot, and then he… he had a seizure out of the blue. He only lasted four days after that, and he was half paralyzed when he finally….” You find yourself unable to finish the story. Even after all these years, thinking about him still hurts as badly as it did the day he died. “All I can think is that at least I was there with him when he…” 

Arthur’s sitting only a foot from you now. He’s so close he must be able to see the tears in your eyes. You wish he wasn’t. It’s rare for you to have a moment of weakness like this, and it’s been an extremely long time since you had an audience. Pathetic doesn’t even come close to how you feel right now with him being a witness. He must think you’re laughable, weak, pitiful. You hate yourself for it. 

He surprises you when he speaks in an incredibly soft voice. “At least you gave him a good life, and you gave him the comfort of not dyin’ alone.” 

You sniff, a tear finally cascading down your cheek. You turn your head so he can’t see. He feels sorry for you; he’s never seen you this upset and he can tell you’re fighting extremely hard to keep yourself contained. He forgets for a moment about your touch aversion and he puts an arm behind you, trying to comfort you. 

Your response is instant. You immediately flinch and jump out of reach, your eyes wide and hard. He raises his hands up. “Easy, easy. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” 

You blink several times and then sit back down. “Sorry,” you say. “I just… I don’t like being touched.” 

“I know,” he says. “Can I ask why?” 

You swallow heavily. “I just don’t.” 

He sighs, knowing he won’t get any further. He’s okay with that though, you’ve already come a long way tonight. He starts humming a song Uncle often sings and it relaxes you. After a bit, the two of you crawl into your bedrolls for the night, but Arthur stays awake a long time. He thinks about the things you said. He can tell by your behavior you’re crying for help, but you just don’t know how to ask. He wonders how he can help you out, especially with your touch aversion. 

**************************

The next morning, you get up before he does. You had dreams of your cat and you feel ashamed for how you reacted the night before. Thoughts of how miserable you must have seemed to Arthur circle in your head and you can’t handle the guilt. You quickly grab your bow and head off to hunt, determined to take out your emotions in the thrill of stalking a deer or a rabbit. 

An hour passes before you return to camp, carrying a buck’s pelt, your satchel laden with rabbit furs and even a badger. You can see Arthur’s up and you sigh, trying to pull yourself together. His behavior from last night confuses you. The questions he was asking, the looks he gave you, how he tried to touch you. You have to wonder why. You can’t come up with an answer, so you resolve yourself to hiding it all again. 

As you throw the pelt over your horse’s back and start stuffing the smaller skins into the saddlebag, Arthur puts out the fire. 

“I wanted to ask ya somethin’,” he says quietly. 

You pause, scared he might ask something similar to the things he said last night. “Okay,” you say in a weak voice. 

“What do you feel when someone touches you?” he asks. “And I don’t mean physically. What do you feel?” 

You look up at him, your eyes wide again. You don’t know what it is about Arthur, but you find yourself wanting to be honest with him. “I… I don’t know.”

He clasps his hands in front of him and takes a few steps closer to you. “Do you feel afraid? Confused? Repulsed? Angry?” 

“No, just… confused and… worried, I guess.” You plant your back to your horse, crossing your arms over yourself. Arthur notices your defensive position. 

“Can you think of why you feel those things?” he asks. His voice is so soft you almost don’t hear it. 

You shake your head, truly not sure why you feel those things. “I don’t know.” 

“Do you… well, do you hate it?” 

“What do you mean?” you ask. 

“Do you hate that you feel confused and worried?” 

You swallow again and lick your lips. “Yes,” you finally say. “I… I read somewhere that we’re wired to enjoy touch, but I just… I can’t.” 

He stands still for a moment. “Can I try somethin’?” he asks. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya, and if it’s too much, we don’t have to go further.” 

“What is it?” you ask. Your heart’s racing in your chest and you feel the impulse to run. Arthur’s too close, he’s been staring at you too long. 

“Let me see your hand,” he says. He’s determined to voice every step he plans on taking, that way you don’t have to be afraid. When you don’t move, he thinks maybe you’ll deny him. Finally though, you unclench your hand from your shirt and hold it out for him. He can see you’re shaking. 

“I promise, I ain’t gonna hurt ya, and I ain’t gonna think you’re pathetic. Y/N, I just wanna help ya.” He slowly raises his hands and clasps them around yours. His hands are so warm, almost hot, and they’re rough from calluses. He can tell you’re resisting the desire to whip yours out of reach. He keeps his hands still around yours for a moment, and then one finger brushes the top of your finger, leaving a burning trail in its wake. Arthur keeps his eyes on your hands, allowing you to process this. 

After a few moments of him just gently tracing your hand, he speaks up. “Tell me what you feel. Not physically, what do you feel?” 

He can see you’ve settled down, your eyes are softer, your breathing lighter, but you’ve barely blinked since he started this. 

“I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “I feel.... I don’t know.” And it’s true. You don’t know what you feel. You’ve no idea that right now, your brain is releasing oxytocins, making you feel good, but they’re clashing with your adrenaline. It makes for a very odd combination. 

“Does it feel good?” he asks. 

You give him a tense nod and he smiles. “Yeah, I know it does. Touch doesn’t have to mean pain. It’s okay to be touched, and it’s okay to want touch.” 

He lets go of your hand and takes a step back. He decides the best thing to do is to leave you alone so you can process it all; he could tell from the look on your face you need time to think about all this. 

When his back’s to you, you flex your hand. It feels much colder without his around it anymore and your skin tingles from where he rubbed your skin. You feel confused again, but for different reasons than before. You used to feel confused because you couldn’t understand why someone would want to touch you, but now you’re confused because it did feel good. It felt comforting, reassuring. Even more confusing is that you want him to do it again. 

Arthur looks back and sees you haven’t moved an inch. You’re still looking at your hand like you’ve never seen it before. He chuckles softly and mounts his horse. Despite that it’s obvious he’s caused you to have a miniature identity crisis, he finds your signs encouraging. He’ll give you a break, and then maybe later, he’ll try going further. 

It’s only when he’s gone off hunting that you come back to yourself. However, the memory of him just touching your hand causes distraction. You’re not as focused as usual, you miss a lot more often when you manage to find an animal to stalk. At one point, you sit down and try rubbing your own hand, trying to recreate what he did, but it doesn’t work of course. You end up sitting a long time, feeling perplexed about the whole thing. 

Arthur meanwhile finds it sad. He wonders if you’ve ever really felt someone touch you in a positive way. He’s no doubt that your family hurt you and not just physically. The fact that you struggled and even fought with yourself last night to control your emotions screams that somewhere in your life, you were taught to completely bury yourself as a form of protection. Arthur is a private man, he knows how hard it is to open up sometimes. But there are still people he knows he can talk to about his own feelings. John, Hosea, Mary-Beth, he knows he can talk to them. But you don’t seem to be able to do it with anyone. He sighs, knowing there’s a very long road ahead with you, but he’s willing to go down it. You deserve to be helped.

*********************************

That night, when camp is set up again, Arthur sits close to you. He finds it encouraging when you let him. He notices you keep positioning your hand in such a way that if he wanted to take it, he could. Not only that, you keep rubbing it. He definitely gave you a lot to think about. 

“So how you feelin’?” he asks after you’ve both eaten. 

You look over at him. Your eyes say you’re still a little lost. “I’m alright.” 

He smiles and pats your shoulder, only this time, you don’t flinch. “Good. Maybe you can make some progress.” 

He gets up and walks over to his horse, reaching into the saddlebag and pulling out a bottle of rum. He turns around and almost runs into you. 

“What are ya doin’?” he asks. It’s obvious you followed him. 

“I don’t know,” you say quietly. You want to ask him to touch you again, but maybe go further. However, there’s some kind of block that prevents you from doing so. He smiles. 

“You want me to help you again like I did this morning?” he asks. 

Your eyes widen even more. He can see how tiny your pupils are, despite the darkness. You’re nervous again, but he sees your head tip in the tiniest nod. He sets down the bottle slowly. 

“Okay, but I’m gonna go a bit further this time. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” 

“I know,” you say. 

Spurred on by this, he holds his arms out a little and he takes small, slow steps closer to you. Slowly, he wraps them around you, enveloping you in a hug. You tense up until you hear his voice. 

“It’s okay. Not gonna hurt ya, not gonna think badly of ya. Don’t think about what I think. Think about how this feels, okay?” 

He can see how tense your jaw is, you’re clenching your shoulders and your breathing in short, quick bursts. He holds you gently, but he notices you’re not reacting. He lets you go, thinking maybe he moved to this point too quickly. 

“Ah, I’m sorry, Y/N,” he says. “Probably frightened ya.” 

“What…” you start in such a quiet voice he almost doesn’t hear. “What do I do? When you do that.” 

It’s his turn to be confused and then it hits him. You don’t know how to reciprocate touch. 

“It’s easy,” he says. He slowly grabs your hands and stretches your arms in front of you, folding them around his waist. “Just do this, then I put my hands here.” He places his hands on your back. “You can lay your head on me if you want,” he says when he notices how stiffly you’re holding your neck, staring up past his shoulder. 

“You’re not… you’re not gonna be upset?” you ask quietly. 

He knows if he voices how shocked he is by this question you’re going to retreat, so he holds it in. “No, Y/N. I ain’t. You just do whatever feels good, okay?” 

You stand stiff in his arms for a few seconds, your hands clenched to the back of his shirt. Then finally, you lower your head and press your cheek to his chest. You can hear his heart beating, slow and steady, opposite of yours. His hand rubs slowly up your back, flooding you with a soothing sensation. You feel yourself suddenly relaxing in his arms, your stomach and chest loosen up, you slowly let your shoulders down and you press your face into his chest. As you relax, you’re able to wrap your arms further around him. His body’s firm and he’s warm, God he is warm. He shifts a bit and then you feel his cheek press down on your head. 

A swarm of emotions suddenly slams into your chest. You’ve never felt like this before, so comfortable and protected. You can’t remember the last time you felt this safe. You suddenly realize how lonely you’ve been all these years, and how much you’ve secretly craved something like this. Your chest tightens again and before you can stop yourself, you’re suddenly crying into Arthur’s shirt. You wait for him to pull away, to be disgusted by you, but he doesn’t. His arms tighten further around you, one hand comes up and cradles your head to his chest. 

Perhaps you imagine it while what feels like every pent up emotion escapes from your body, but you swear you feel Arthur’s lips on your forehead as you sob. Maybe you just wish you felt him do that, it’s not entirely clear if it really happened. 

When you’ve finally lost the ability to cry anymore (your body just can’t seem to produce another tear), you pull away slightly to see the mess you’ve made on Arthur’s shirt. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, wiping your eyes dry. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says gently, his arms still around you. He suddenly smiles. “I never knew someone so tough could be so-” 

“Pathetic?” you say. 

He tilts his head to the side a bit. “Passionate. You got a lot of feelin’s swirling around in ya, I bet ya didn’t even know about some of ‘em.” 

You blush and look down at his shirt again. 

“Point is,” he continues, “it’s okay to feel them, to let yourself feel. It ain’t healthy and it ain’t weak to let yourself be vulnerable once in a while. You’ll find that you’re able to stand stronger when ya do.” 

Your hands clench his shirt a bit. This isn’t right. Arthur shouldn’t be comforting you, the two of you should be settling down to sleep right now. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” you say, your voice squeaking. 

He lets out a long sigh. “Because you deserve it, Y/N. Because it ain’t fair to you for everyone to expect you to always be strong and stoic. You deserve to be allowed to be vulnerable. I don’t know who taught you that showing it when you’re upset is a bad thing, but it ain’t.” 

One of his hands comes up and brushes your cheek, wiping it dry. You feel yourself trusting him and get a sudden desire to spill all your secrets to this man. You can’t look away from his lips either. How strange it is that Arthur Morgan, the toughest man you’ve ever met, with a temper so easily flared, is teaching you the importance of being weak every once in a while? 

You press your face back into his chest, your forehead settling against his neck. His arms tighten around you again, his right hand settled between your shoulder blades. You relax even more, to the point you acknowledge his scent. Leather, tobacco leaves, gunpowder and sage. God, he smells good. 

You don’t know how long you stay in his arms, but you’re so comfortable and feel so safe you feel your eyes drooping. He must be able to tell too, because he pats your shoulder. 

“Let’s get some sleep, hmm? I know you’re exhausted.” 

You nod. You surprise even yourself when you move your bedroll next to his, but then feel worried that you might be encroaching on his personal space too much. You look up at him and he smiles. 

“You can sleep next to me if ya want. I don’t mind.” 

For the first time, you smile back at him. When he’s settled in his roll, lying on his back, you curl up against him, your head settling on his chest. Arthur brushes your hair, his fingers trailing down your back. His other hand settles over yours, which rests on his stomach. 

After a while, you look up at him. “Arthur?” 

“Hmm?” His eyes find yours. 

“Thank you. I know I… I still have a long road to recovery, but thank you. I wouldn’t have known how much help I needed unless you showed me.” 

He smiles and then his lips press against your forehead. “You’re welcome, darlin’.”

You settle down back onto him, his heat seeping up into you. When you were young, you imagined doing this with a man you love, but never once did you think it could feel this good. Then it hits you. You love Arthur. There’s no denying it. You wouldn’t have let him even hold your hand if you didn’t. The thought both scares and intrigues you, but you have a prodding in your gut that says he must feel something too. As you lie in his arms, you wonder where he might take you tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are a writer's bread and butter! Did you like this? Let me know! Did you not like this? Tell me about it!


	53. Discovering New Horizons pt. 2*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've had several people ask for a sequel to this one shot and honestly I've felt it needed one to complete the journey. I'm also hoping I can end my writing hiatus with this piece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: smut

Weeks have passed since you had that night with Arthur, where he hugged you and you discovered you could be vulnerable around him. The first few days after that had been very confusing and you hopped in and out of phases where Arthur could touch you and others where he couldn’t even get within a foot of you. Never did you attack him in those aversive moods, of course, but if he tried to stand close, you’d move. 

The phases of where you would allow him to touch you were the best though. The two of you spent the few days together hunting, gathering and exploring (the train Arthur used as a ruse to get you out of camp went unrobbed). When you wanted to be touched, he’d happily sit under a tree or near a stream and just hold you, and you held him back. Sometimes you cried as your brain processed everything, but Arthur never judged you. He found it incredible that, despite him hardly knowing a thing about you before, you were a very deep and complicated person. During the phases where you were being aversive, Arthur would give you your space without question. 

When the two of you got back to camp, it was hard for you to go back to trying to be the cold-hearted, hard shelled person you’d been for most of your life, especially when Arthur was around. When he was on a job, it was easy to do it because you didn’t trust the others the way you trusted him. But when he was around, it could be impossible at times. You’d try to sneak in little touches here and there when you could sneak them in, just brushes of his hand, putting your knee against his while sitting at the campfire. 

Of course, you didn’t give enough credit to the others in camp and how observant they were, and it wasn’t long before rumors began to spread that you and Arthur were involved. Only Abigail approached you about it, but you got a little overly aggressive about it (you hadn’t meant to, but you didn’t like the idea of sounding vulnerable around so many people), and after that, no one approached you. They did go to Arthur, but he wanted to make you comfortable so he did his best to squash the rumors. 

Then one night, you’d gotten emotional over something simple and you just needed to break down. Arthur was there and, although he tried to take you out of camp so you could let go where you’d be comfortable doing it, he couldn’t. So the two of you headed outside of camp and he just held you while you broke down into his chest, clutching his shirt. The two of you hadn’t heard Uncle approaching and he saw you cuddling together. After that, the cat was out of the bag that you and Arthur were together. 

It was difficult for you because you were convinced Arthur just viewed you as a friend who was kind enough to help you. Sure, you were falling head over heels for him, but you didn’t think the feelings were returned by him. You tried your best to stamp out the flames in camp, even getting mean about it, but no one took you seriously. Sean had even come up to you and draped an arm over you. 

“Ah, I always knew you had a soft core,” he said drunkenly. “No one is that mean through and through!” 

“Get your arm off me before I show you how mean I can really get,” you snarled. He chuckled but finally withdrew his arm. You glared at his back as he walked away. 

Over the next few days after that, people started to get on your nerves. They were seeing through your cracks and you hated it as they started having more jokes at your expense, daring to even try and touch you. Arthur seemed to sense it and he started pulling you out on jobs more and more to prevent you losing your patience and killing someone. 

The result of him doing this though was that you started to get even closer to him, both emotionally and physically. One night you were with him out in the Scarlett Meadows, sitting near the lake as the sun was setting. It was a perfect day, the sky was clear and the colors were vibrant. You and Arthur were sat around a little fire, wrapped in one another’s embrace. You’d been wondering for days if he had feelings for you. One thing led to another and the two of you kissed, affirming your hopes. 

Arthur was so sweet with you when you were out together. He made you feel safe enough to let down your thick walls and you were able to discover a lot about yourself, investigate the dark corners that you didn’t even know you had. 

Part of you felt foolish, weak, pathetic because you felt you should be able to do this all on your own. At one point, you voiced this to him. He put his hands on your shoulders. 

“Darlin’, from what you’ve told me about your family, they encouraged you to hide and got angry when you opened up. How could you not feel like you weren’t allowed to be open when they made you think it was wrong? But I’m willin’ to help you, sweetheart. Hell, I enjoy it. No one but me gets to see you like this, and that’s somethin’ real special.” 

It was when he said things like this that made you feel warm inside, and it helped to remind you to be kind to yourself. You’d been holding too harsh of an expectation of yourself and it wasn’t healthy. 

A few days passed after your first kiss and there’d been a night in camp when you’d had nightmares. They were old, repetitive, but no less disturbing. For the first time in your life since you’d had them, you allowed yourself to cry over them. It made you feel stupid and foolish, but it also felt good to allow yourself to let down. 

However, you didn’t want to go through it alone, so you wandered over to Arthur’s tent and gently woke him. Despite the late hour, he proved to be a good audience. He held you while you told him what you’d dreamt, and then he invited you to stay with him the rest of the night, which you happily took up his offer (forgetting that you’d be seen by everyone else in the morning). 

When the others woke in camp, of course they saw you and soon that was all they mentioned when they saw you. It was almost like they enjoyed seeing you break like this (or at least that was how you perceived it). Finally Hosea pulled you aside. He comforted you and when you asked why the others were so persistently mentioning your change, he just smiled. 

“Because you’ve never been more human before, Y/N,” Hosea said. “Hell, pretty much everyone in this camp was frightened of you. No one wanted to get on your bad side because we’ve all seen what happens to the folks who do. But most of us know that no one is that mean and heartless through and through, and something in you has changed. I don’t know if it was Arthur, or if something else brought it about.” 

You didn’t tell him about that first day with Arthur, when he’d simply touched your hand and then hugged you at night. You’ve never mentioned it to another person, not even to Arthur, how it’s changed your outlook on yourself. 

“The point is, we’re all starting to see who you really are,” Hosea continued, “and from what everyone has been saying to you and about you, we’re liking what we’re finding.” 

He gave you a kind smile and patted your shoulder, something you’d never allowed before but did this time without hardly thinking about it. 

Part of you wished then and there to go and tell Arthur exactly how grateful you were to him for taking those steps that day, for breaking down your walls. But it seemed unlikely you would ever begin to know how to even put your feelings into words, nonetheless utter them to him. 

Now you’re riding behind him on your horse, heading towards Strawberry. You’d just finished with a job Micah brought around, wanting to rob a stage. The job was predictably a mess, every job Micah brought always was, but you and Arthur managed to get through it unscathed despite getting ambushed by the O’Driscolls in a river.

After Micah headed off with his portion of the stolen money, you noted that it was growing late in the day. Too late to begin heading back to camp, which would take a whole day in it of itself. Arthur noticed too and suggested going to Strawberry, which wasn’t far off, and you could get yourselves a bath and some real food. 

As the two of you enter the saloon in the town (which only serves the most diluted alcohol as it prides itself on being dry), Arthur takes your hand in his. While you both eat and talk, he keeps constant contact between you, whether its your hands touching or his knee against yours. He likes doing this, and you figure it must feel nice for him too as there aren’t many people he can be physically intimate with either. 

After eating, you both head over to the hotel. You pay for a bath right after Arthur pays for a room. “I should’ve paid for that,” he grumbles. 

“You don’t have to buy me everything, Arthur,” you retort. 

At the top of the stairs, you kiss Arthur before heading into the bath. Part of you wonders if he’s on the brink of asking if he can join. You’re not entirely sure you would say no. But he doesn’t. He just gives you a smile and heads into the room. 

After scrubbing yourself clean, you begin thinking about Arthur. Intimately. As you think about him and what you might like to do with him, you suddenly realize that you’d have to be completely vulnerable to him. No more dark corners to hide in. Can you do it? You’re still learning to be open with yourself, would it even be possible to be so raw and passionate with Arthur? 

As you continue to soak in the tub, you think about the past sexual encounters you’ve had. None of them had been passionate or out of love. Hell, none of them were even good. You’ve only had sex a handful of times, if you could even call it sex. None of them involved penetration, all the men had been drunk and you’d just lured them into thinking they were getting lucky so you could knock them out and rob them. Sure, you’d gotten naked and maybe even had to be a little handsy with one or two of them, but you’d been comforted by the knowledge they’d remember nothing of you or your body. But Arthur is sober. He will remember.

Suddenly you realize you want to do this with him. Something in your gut tells you it’s right. Perhaps by doing this you can completely free yourself of the chains you’ve worn most of your life. You want this. 

Before you have the chance to overthink things and talk yourself out of this, you climb out of the tub. Once you’ve dried yourself off, you purposefully avoid the mirror. Seeing yourself like this will definitely convince you not to show Arthur, how could he want to look at something so horrible? You try not to think of it and you see a silky bathrobe hanging near the door. 

After putting it on, you grab your clothes and head out and open the door to the room. Arthur’s sitting on the bed, writing in his journal. You’ve been tempted to read it but never wanted to invade his privacy like that. You’d be mad as hell if someone read your journal. 

Just as you toss your clothes into a corner, Arthur looks up and then his eyes widen at the sight of you in nothing but the bathrobe. 

“What you doin’, darlin’?” he asks. 

You bite your lip and head over to the side of the bed he’s sitting on. You feel slightly stupid, but try to squash the doubts that are quickly growing in your mind. 

You finally speak, trying to keep your voice steady despite how much you’re shaking. “I want you to see me, Arthur. All of me. I’m tired of hiding.” 

With that, you untie the robe, slip it open and then let it fall to the floor. You’re completely naked now. He swallows and his eyes leave yours and roam down your body. It’s hard but you resist the urge to cross your arms over yourself. 

Finally Arthur’s eyes return to yours and he stands up. “You sure, sweetheart?” he asks softly. You nod. 

“You’re shakin’, darlin’. Can I?” He lifts his hands to show he wants to touch you. 

With your heart pounding a million miles, you give him a stiff nod. You fully expect him to touch you somewhere intimately but instead he puts his hands on your shoulders. He bends down and kisses you softly, his hands gliding down your back. He hesitates and then goes to the cushioned flesh of your rear. He squeezes a bit and then his hands slide up your back. 

“You okay?” he asks as you’re still trembling. You nod once again and he smiles. Then his hands leave your body and he begins unbuttoning his shirt. You push his hands away and do it for him, suddenly hungry to see him in the same condition as yourself. 

The second you rip his shirt off, you drink in the sight of him. God he looks good. Broad shoulders, toned arms. The shape of his chest, the hair going down it, spattering across his stomach and trailing down beneath his pants. You admire the arch showing the definition of his ribs on his stomach. 

Just as you reach for his pants, he stops you and his hands gently slide around your neck. You almost flinch as you’re incredibly worried about your neck (having been attacked there far too many times), but he doesn’t squeeze or harm you at all. As you undo his gun belt and begin pulling his pants open, he kisses you. 

Finally his pants fall and you look down to admire his body. He looks better than your imagination gave him credit, and then your eyes go to his cock. Despite only being semi hard, he’s already a good size. You wonder how much bigger he can get. 

Just as you reach for him to test it, he stops you. “Darlin’, I wanna try somethin’. Somethin’ that might help ya.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, you’re shakin’ like a leaf, darlin’. I know you ain’t that cold. You mind if I?” He gestures again that he wants to touch you and you nod, feeling a little more relaxed. 

His hands go to your hips and then he moves you so your back is to the bed and then, slowly and gently, he lays you down onto your back. Predicting where he wants to be, you spread your legs for him. Part of you just wants to get this over with so you can put your clothes back on, but that’s the part of you that’s dominated your life, the part that has kept you in hiding. You push it down and remind yourself to try to enjoy this. 

However, Arthur does not dive in. He isn’t touching you at all in fact. You look at him and glance down to his cock, which still isn’t fully erect. Your eyes go back to his, questioning. 

“Darlin’, I wanna touch you. I wanna touch you everywhere.” 

You realize he’s asking permission. He will not do anything without your consent. Feeling comforted, you nod and force yourself to stay still. 

Once again, he surprises you by not going directly to your intimate parts. Instead, his hands find yours and he traces them. His hands are warm, completely opposite of your own, and then he glides down your forearms, leaving goose bumps in his wake. Then down to your shoulders, across your clavicles and to your neck. You find yourself tilting your head back to allow him to touch you better, something you’d never do normally, but he feels so good. 

After studying your neck, his hands glide down and then he cups your breasts. You let out a pleasant sigh as he studies them, his calloused fingers roaming your flesh and then rolling your nipples between his fingers. It’s here you realize how wet you’re getting and you spread your legs a little more, showing him where you want him. But he doesn’t go there.

His hands glide down your stomach, almost tickling the skin. Finally he’s near your pubic area, but once again he avoids it, brushing down your thighs, down to your knees, your calves and finally your feet. He gently squeezes your feet, releasing some of the soreness there. 

By this time, you’re still trembling, but not out of fear. You need him. You need him to enter you. Your body is pleading for you to tell him. 

As if he can read your mind, or rather your body, his hands slip between your knees and he pulls them up and apart, completely exposing your most intimate area. You watch his face as he studies what you have to offer him and then you look down at him. He’s fully erect by now.

Just as you’re thinking about sitting up and grabbing him, his hands slide down your inner thighs. Then he spreads your folds and slips two fingers in, rubbing your most sensitive region. You let out a gasp. God, you’ve never felt this kind of physical pleasure before. As he rubs you, you can’t help but move your hips in time with his hand. He stimulates your center a few times and then his fingers move to your opening, sliding in slowly. 

“God, girl,” he groans softly. “Somethin’ tells me you’re enjoyin’ this.” 

“Arthur,” you whine. You need his cock inside of you. Your eyes meet and he smiles teasingly. 

Finally his fingers slide out of you and then you feel his head brush your opening. Your eyes are closed and you prepare yourself to take him. 

“I want you to watch this, darlin’,” he says in his deep voice. You force yourself to open your eyes and look down to your nearly joined bodies. Then you watch as he pushes himself slowly, inch by inch, into you. As he enters, he spreads your walls. It’s a little tight and slightly uncomfortable, but you spread your legs more to allow him to keep going. 

The second he’s completely within you, it’s like the last piece of the puzzle has been put down. This feels right, it feels good. It’s like this was all meant to be. His hands grab your hips and then he begins bucking, softly at first. 

You groan under him. God, his movement is exactly what you need. The way he pulses in and out of you, nothing could be better. His thrusts force you to pant. 

“Arthur… Arthur…” you mutter over and over. 

“You sound so pretty,” he purrs. 

With the encouragement of your moans, he begins going faster and harder. As he does, you feel the last few walls begin to tumble. You’re one with him. It feels odd, silly even, that you’ve spent your entire adult life being so blocked off from your own emotions. What you feel now is something you didn’t even know you were capable of. 

Arthur continues to pound himself into you, in and out. 

“Arthur,” you say, but he doesn’t respond. Probably thinks you’re just saying his name out of please. “Arthur, I… I feel so good. I… I think I…. I love you.” 

Arthur suddenly stops and your heart plummetts. Do you really love him or are you just saying that out of the ecstasy of sex? You look at him, your eyes searching his. He doesn’t look angry or disappointed like you were worried he would be. Instead, he looks amazed.

“What did you say?” he asks.

“I… I think I love you. You’ve made me realize I can be open with myself, and with you. I’ve been doing a lot of searching within myself when it comes to you, Arthur, and I… I love you.” 

His face slips into a grin and his hand comes up to cup your cheek. “Oh Y/N. I been hopin’ I could hear you say that for some time. I’ve loved you since that first time you and I touched.” 

You smile and can’t help but let a tear fall down the side of your face. He rubs it away and then he bends down to kiss you. As he does, you push your hips up to remind him of what you’re doing. He responds by thrusting again. His lips glide down and take hold of your neck where he kisses as he builds back to his rhythm. You clutch onto his back to anchor yourself. He seems more fervent this time around. Perhaps with your feelings for him no longer being a question, he can truly make love to you. 

After a minute of pounding and kissing, he speaks up. “You close?” 

“I’m… I’m getting there,” you say. Arthur’s cock twitches as he thrusts, brushing your spot. You groan in response to this. 

“I want ya to come for me, darlin’.” 

“Oh Arthur. Keep…. Keep going. Oh God.” 

As if he knows exactly the kind of stimulation you need, his hand goes between your bodies and slips into your fold once again. He begins rubbing your clit in time with his bucking. 

“Oh God. Arthur!” you hiss as the pleasure of his touch threatens to overwhelm you. It feels as though there’s one last wall preventing from doing so, but it’s being chiseled away. You want it to fall, you need it to. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Just let it go.” 

Arthur rubs you hard, his cock brushing your spot again and again. As his fingers trail over your nub yet again, you suddenly feel the wall come crashing down. As it does, your back arches, your toes curl and your head pushes into the bed. Arthur rubs you again and again, forcing the wall to continue falling. 

The moment it collapses, you feel yourself completely give in to the raw passion that’s been trying to claw its way out. You let out a low howl as Arthur continues to pound into you, his fingers still trailing over your clit. 

“Arthur!” you practically shout, no longer caring for who might hear you. Your walls clench around him and suddenly you feel him pulse and then something hot seeps out, filling you. You and Arthur have come at the same time it seems. 

Finally, you start to come down from your high, allowing you to breath again. You settle into the bed, panting. Arthur’s breathing hard too, his skin has taken on a slight sheen. 

“Good girl,” he growls into your ear and then he pulls his softening cock out, leaving you feeling slightly empty. 

“Oh Arthur,” is all you can manage. He smiles and falls onto his back. After a few seconds, you turn over and curl up against his side, wanting to stay close to him. Your hand wanders over his chest, trailing through the hair, and then you reach up and kiss him. As you do, you feel there’s so much more being said through the kiss than any that have come before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you read, tell me! Having so many people comment is truly one of the biggest factors of why I've kept going!


	54. Help Me Stand Unshaken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Do you take sad/heartbroken requests? If so, can you write one of fem!Reader taking care of dying Arthur? (He miraculously survived the fight against Micah while having TB but he only has a month left to live and he and reader spend his last days together happily. She takes him to the spot where he dies in game after he says he wanted to see the sunrise one last time and dies in her arms? Knowing that at least someone loved and appreciated him.)

“I want you to not look back,” Arthur says. You watch him, tears cascading down your cheeks, as Arthur grabs John by the shoulder. “It would mean a lot to me, please. There ain’t no more time for talk. Go on, get out of here.” 

“Arthur,” John starts. 

“Get the hell out of here and be a goddamn man! Y/N and I will hold ‘em off.” 

He starts walking up the hill as you start turning back towards the approaching Pinkertons. As you do, you hear John. “You’re my brother.” 

“I know,” Arthur huffs to him. His voice is growing so weak and hoarse. He’s been showing signs the last couple of weeks of some kind of illness, but you’re not quite sure yet what it is. He doesn’t either, otherwise he’d surely have told you. John runs off and you see people advancing towards you from the bottom of the mountain. 

As you begin shooting, you hear Arthur call out in pain. You look and see him and Micah falling from the top of the mountain to the ledge below. You gasp and start running towards them. As Micah starts to get up, you kick him in the gut as hard as you can. This is all his fault, the reason the gang’s collapsed and Dutch has gone mad. How dare he attack Arthur now?!

Just as you go to kick him again, Micah grabs your foot and starts to twist, making the muscles around your ankle and knee scream out. As you holler, Arthur grabs Micah from behind, throwing him off of you. 

The two men start to slam into each other, punching and roaring. You do what you can to help, hitting Micah when you can. He responds by turning around and punching you so hard that starts glitter in your eyes. You fall back and hear the men collide together again. 

“You goddamn rat!” Arthur roars. 

“I’m a survivor! I told you, blacklung! A survivor!” 

As you’re sitting up, your vision clearing, you see a gun fly out of Micah’s hand as Arthur slaps him. Micah retorts by slamming his head into the wall. You get up and start going for the gun. This’ll only end with someone dying and you’re not going to let it be Arthur. 

Just as you grab the gun, someone grabs you from behind and throws you over their shoulder. Micah slams you into the ground and you get a brief glimpse of Arthur lying on the ground, his face heavily bruised and bleeding. Micah begins pummeling you. You try fighting him off, but you’re quickly losing strength. 

Micah looks over his shoulder and sees Arthur crawling towards the gun, which forces him to lose interest in breaking your face open. 

“You’re not gonna get that gun, blacklung.” 

“Despite your best efforts, Micah,” he wheezes, “you’ll find I’m full of surprises.” 

Through your blurred vision, you see someone walking towards him and then stop. Arthur yells out in pain. You blink the blood from your eyes and Dutch comes into view. 

“It’s over, Arthur.” 

You start coughing, your body wracked in pain from Micah beating you. As you calm down, you hear Arthur beg Dutch. 

“I gave you all I had. I did.” 

“I…” Dutch says softly. 

“Come on, Dutch,” Micah says. “We’ve made it. We won!” 

“John made it,” Arthur says. “He’s the only one. The rest of us, no. But I tried. In the end, I did.” 

“Come on, Dutch. He’s dying. Let’s go. Dutch. Dutch! Gah!” Micah suddenly runs off and Dutch walks away. The sun’s beginning to rise. You take a moment to collect yourself and then heave yourself to your feet. 

“Arthur. Arthur!” you yell. He opens his puffy eyes and reaches a hand up to stroke your cheek. 

“You’re not dead,” you say, breathing out in relief. You take the last of your strength and pull him to his feet. Agonizingly, slowly, you help him walk down the mountain. You know from wandering this area in the past, there’s an abandoned cabin not too far away in the forest. You help Arthur hobble there, despite your own pain, and then push the door to the cabin open. 

It needs cleaning, but it’s furnished and it’ll at least provide shelter for a few days so you and Arthur can rest. You both collapse onto the bed, not caring about the dust and the strong smell of stale air. Arthur rolls onto his back and you curl up on his chest, exhausted. Just as you’re drifting off, you hear the sputtering in his lungs.

*********************************

It’s been a week since the confrontation with Micah and Dutch. Neither of you have heard from them, nor do you want to. Your wounds are finally healing, but Arthur’s condition is worrying you. The fight with Micah has triggered something. You see him cough a lot, and occasionally he spits and there’s blood. 

He gets tired much more quickly. You both decide to stay in this cabin, mostly because you’re worried Arthur might be getting sick. He needs to rest and now that he has the opportunity to, you’re determined to make him. 

A few days after you came down from the mountain, you and Arthur started to clean the cabin. That was when you noticed how quickly he was tiring out. And then, the first night you made love in the cabin, Arthur went into a fierce coughing fit and was too exhausted to finish. 

“Arthur, I’m growing worried about you. I think we need to see a doctor,” you say to him. He’s sitting in a chair in the cabin, his face pale and sweaty. He’d been outside, helping you pick wild herbs when he’d gotten another coughing fit and collapsed. You’d dragged him into the cabin where it’s cool. 

“I’m… fine, darlin’,” Arthur pants, his head tilting back. 

“No, you’re not. Arthur, please. Let me take you to the doctor.”

He just chuckles. “And how do you propose that? We… we ain’t got horses.” 

He’s right, of course. Both your horses were shot by the Pinkertons. You also can’t leave him like this, not in good conscience anyways. 

“Hang on, I’ll be back,” you say. You kiss his head and then dart outside. It doesn’t take long to find the main trail and, luckily, a man in a wagon driven by a single horse comes down the way. 

“Sir!” you say. “I need some help!” 

The man stops his wagon and glares at you suspiciously. “What is it?” 

“It’s my husband,” you say, ignoring the fact that technically you and Arthur aren’t married. You’ve been together so long though you’ve considered him as such for some time though. “He’s very sick and we’ve no horses. Sir, can you help me take him to town, see a doctor?” 

“You got money?” he barks.

“What? Sir, he’s very sick. Please, I just need help.” 

“How do I know you ain’t trying to rob me? Pay me and I’ll help.” 

You growl. “Fine. Here’s $15, that suffice?” 

He counts the bills and then nods. “Alright, but I’m gonna warn ya: I’m armed and if you’re pulling my leg, I won’t hesitate to use it.” 

“Thank you, sir. Can you pull your wagon down the path? Our cabin isn’t far.” 

He drives his horse down the path and then the cabin comes into view. You go inside and find Arthur hasn’t moved. You pull him up, draping his arm over your shoulder and then help him walk outside. 

When the man sees you struggling with Arthur’s weight, his mouth drops open in surprise. He clearly thought you’d been trying to rob him. He hops off the wagon and helps you heave Arthur to the wagon. He lifts him into it and then you climb in after. 

The man drives to Valentine, since that’s where he’s going anyways. You’re grateful as you’re not sure Annesburg is safe to go to yet. Once there, the man helps you guide Arthur into the doctor’s office. 

The doctor looks up when you enter, but when he sees Arthur’s condition, he immediately stops pouring some pink powder into a tiny vial and leads you to the examination room. You plop Arthur into the seat and then step back, waiting. 

The doctor looks up. “Ma’am, gonna have to ask you to leave. Privacy and all.” 

“Sir, he’s my husband. We don’t hide anything from each other.” 

Arthur grabs your hand. “Stay with me, darlin’.” 

He’s scared, you can tell. You are, too. The doctor sighs and relents. He listens to Arthur’s chest. Even from your position, you can hear the rattling from his lungs. The doctor examines his mouth and asks him a few questions.

The doctor sighs and puts down his tools. “I’m real sorry, son, but it ain’t good news.” 

“Well I guessed that,” Arthur croaks. 

“You’ve gotten consumption. I’m real sorry, son, looks like it might be progressing fairly quickly.” 

The doctor explains that some people can live the majority of their lives with TB as long as they stay in hot, dry places. But then he hits you with another punch to the gut. 

“Unfortunately, your disease has gotten to the point I’m afraid there ain’t much that can be done. Like I said, I’m real sorry.” 

You swallow a wave of tears. “What can we do, doctor?” 

He sighs and pats Arthur’s arm reassuringly. “Best thing is rest. Also a mixture of ginseng and yarrow will help.” 

The doctor also explains on what to expect, but in the end, he basically tells you and Arthur that nothing can be done to save his life. 

“I’m real sorry,” he says for a third time. 

Your lower lip trembles, but you pay the man. He gives Arthur a shot of something to help give him some strength in order to get back home. Arthur looks beyond devastated as he walks out with you, but he just grabs your hand and heads out into the street. He suddenly pulls you out from behind a building and pulls you into a hug, burying his face into your neck. You hold him tight, choking back tears. 

When he’s recollected himself, you suggest going to the stables and buying some horses to get back. He agrees, but then he tells you to buy only one. 

“Why?” you ask. 

He blinks and looks down. “Because I won’t need one in the near future, and you’ll be stuck with two.” 

“Arthur, please,” you whimper, tears sliding down your cheeks. “Just get one, please. I’ll… I’ll have something to remember you by.” 

**************************

You get back to the cabin, you on a black standardbred named Charlie and him on a long-legged dunn thoroughbred named Cassidy. Arthur’s been quiet the whole trip. When you get inside, he pulls you into another hug. 

“Darlin’, I… I know where I got this thing. That pathetic do-gooder, Thomas Downes. I remember he was real sick when I… when I beat him.” 

He pauses and wipes his face. “I think it’s best you go on, make a life for yourself. I ain’t got long left, I don’t think.” 

His words sink in and your chest clenches. “I am not leaving you, Arthur, you hear me? I am staying with you as long as I can. I’m gonna take care of you.” You kiss his head and then he presses his to yours.

“Thank you, darlin’. I wish you’d reconsider. You don’t deserve that kind of pain.” 

“I don’t care. I’d rather have you until the end instead of leaving you… alone to go through that.” 

*************************

The next few weeks are unimaginably painful. You do as the doctor suggested, picking wild ginseng and yarrow. The mixture helps ease the pain, but Arthur’s disease moves quickly. Every day, he seems to cough more and more, bringing up blood. Every once in a while, he passes out from the violence of his fits. 

You’ve learned there are certain foods that can either help or make things worse. You have to lower the amount of salt you put in his meals, but you make him eat a lot of fruits, particularly berries as they seem to help give him an energy boost. 

Arthur seems determined to try and help out around the cabin, but you’re also determined to make him rest. You’re resolved to help him live as long as he can, but after three weeks, you can see how much he’s struggling and how much weaker he’s gotten. Part of you wonders if it’s not just kinder to let him go quickly rather than struggle like this, but you want to show him how much you love him. 

You try hiding your tears as often as possible, not wanting him to see how much you’re going to be wrecked by his death. He can see right through you though. 

“Darlin’, promise me somethin’,” he says one night as he holds you. “Promise me that someday you’ll find someone, someone worthy of your love.” 

You sniff and cup his cheek. “Arthur, I can’t promise that. I… I can’t love anyone else as much as I’ve loved you.” 

He sighs. “Well, you’d make me feel a lot better about everything if you did.” 

“But I also promised you I’d never lie. I’m not going to start now.” You reach up and kiss him, ignoring his groans of protest. He hasn’t wanted to kiss you since the doctor’s, afraid he might give you his illness. You don’t care though. “Arthur, I can’t even tell you how much I’m gonna… I’m gonna miss you.” 

You start to cry and he just holds you close, pressing your face to his chest. “I know, darlin’. I wish it was different, I do. But promise me this at least: promise me you won’t look back on any of this. You go where you’ll be as happy as you can be, build a good life for yourself, ya hear?” 

You nod. “I can promise that much, Arthur.” 

A few nights after this conversation, you’re woken up by Arthur having another hard coughing fit. He’s been getting more of these, and coughing up more blood with them. You pat his back, trying to sooth him through it. 

“I’ll make some medicine,” you say, about to get out of bed. He grabs your hand. 

“Darlin’, I… I don’t feel good. I.... Will you do somethin’?”

You squeeze his hand. “Anything.” 

“You remember where… Micah almost killed us?” He’s panting, trying to settle down from his coughing. You nod. “Take me there. I wanna watch the sun rise.” 

Something in your gut tells you that this is it: this is the end. You tell yourself that it’s just you being anxious. You nod again though, you just want him to be happy. Anything to prolong the inevitable.

You get up and dress, and then help him do the same. You then help him onto his horse Cassidy and take the relatively short trip to the mountain. The sky’s growing light and you help Arthur walk up to the ledge where he and Micah fought. You then take him around the bend where you can watch from the perfect angle to watch the sun. 

You stand there for a moment, but then Arthur got another fit. Afraid he might pass out, you help him lie down, wrapping him in your arms, praying he doesn’t pass out again. You hear him take in a sharp breath, but then his breathing starts to even out, getting deeper and slower. Too slow. 

“Arthur?” you whisper. The sun is just beginning to rise. It sure is beautiful, the sky turning a brilliant gold with streaks of periwinkle blue. Arthur hasn’t responded and you whisper his name again. Still he doesn’t respond, but he lets out a long, deep breath. 

You look down. He’s lying in your lap, facing the rising sun. His eyes are glassy. You put a hand on his chest, but it doesn’t move. Your own breath catches in your throat, and you put a finger to his throat, looking for a pulse. There isn't one. That’s when it hits you: he’s gone. 

You look up to the sun again, your cheeks streaked with hot tears. You’re struggling to breath as it all sinks in, and it builds, builds, builds until your chest can’t grow tighter and then you start to sob. 

“Arthur!” you cry out. “Come back! Come back!” 

Of course you know that he won’t though, there’s nothing that can bring him back. You brush your hands through his hair, bawling. 

“I’m sorry, Arthur. I promise I will see you again.” You kiss his head, ignoring that while he’s warm, there’s a chill to his skin. 

Time becomes insignificant, your body grows stiff and your legs fall asleep, but you don’t care. It’s nothing compared to the pain in your heart. Your skin begins to burn under the fierce sun, but as it crawls into the middle of the sky, you hear a voice. It’s Arthur, but his body isn’t moving. 

“Promise me you won’t look back on any of this. You go where you’ll be as happy as you can be, build a good life for yourself, ya hear?”

You know what you have to do now. Arthur wouldn’t want you to just stay here like this, letting yourself sink into this pit of despair. He deserves to be put to rest properly. You get up and get the horses, hauling his body onto Cassidy. You ride down to a spot on a mountain that overlooks a river, the bridge he and John destroyed not far away. You bury him on an overlook where he can see the setting sun. 

When he’s buried and you’ve put up a headstone, you can’t move anymore. Your grief won’t let you. Weeks pass and you can’t leave the area. You can’t bring yourself to leave him, even though you know he’d want you to. You maintain his grave, making sure it stays perfect. You’re touched when you see buds of wild flowers beginning to grow out of the grave. He would have liked that. 

You sit now near his grave, just talking to Arthur, pretending he can hear you. So often when you come here, you can feel his arms around you. 

“I saw this buck this morning, reminded me of you.” You smile, thinking about how handsome the stag was. “I swear I can’t see one and not think of you.” 

As you reminisce on the life you and he lead, you cough a little but think nothing of it. The sun is setting now, and it’s Arthur’s favorite time of day. A warm breeze blows up from the river and as it reaches you, it feels like Arthur, brushing his fingers through your hair. Whatever happens, you won’t forget a moment you spent with him. All you want is to be by his side once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked what you read, leave a kudos or better yet a comment!


	55. Hide n Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hello! I have a request to make, if that's okay? Can you write some good fun times in camp between fem reader and Arthur? Like they play a game of side 'n seek mixed with tag then go for a swim in the lake at Clemen's Point and smut happens? Lol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: smut

It’s a hot day. You’re used to heat of course, you grew up near Blackwater. But today is just hot. It doesn’t help that it rained last night, adding humidity. You find yourself thinking more and more of jumping into a stream or a pond, anything to cool down. 

You’re riding along with Arthur, your saddlebags laden down with skins, herbs, a variety of stolen goods, and even a gold bar. A few days back, Arthur met some guy claiming to be a famous treasure hunter (Arthur said he was probably famous for his idiocy) and bought a map from him. He asked you to go with him to find the treasure and you’d heartily agreed, of course. Any reason you could get to spend time with your beloved cowboy. 

The treasure map had led you to two other pieces hidden in different locations around New Hanover, ending at O’Creagh’s Run where the last map claimed the treasure was hidden on the small island in the lake. Arthur found a small boat and rowed to it, finding two gold bars. He’d given one to you and kept the other for himself. After that, you made your way south to Emerald Ranch to sell your gains. 

You head over to the fence at the ranch, where Seamus stands behind his pile of crates. He folds his arms, trying to look innocent (and rather failing at it in your opinion). You and Arthur sell your items to him, coming out quite a bit richer than before. Arthur of course reminds you to give the gang its share, though you don’t need reminding. 

You’re making your way back to camp now, positioned at Horseshoe Overlook, but it’s so damn hot and you’re just not ready yet to go join the others. Despite the last three days of being with no one but Arthur, you feel like you’ve hardly spent any quality time with him. 

“Arthur, let’s go fishing,” you plead, your eyes wandering south to Flat Iron Lake. He stops his horse and looks back at you. 

“Sure, we can do that. Ain’t gone fishin’ in a while.” 

You give him a cheeky grin. “Race you there!” 

You don’t give him any more warning than that and kick your horse into a gallop. Arthur calls after you, claiming you’re cheating, but you don’t slow down. 

“I’m gonna get you!” he hollers. 

“I’d like to see you try!” 

You reach the trees on the edge of the lake and dismount your horse, aware that Arthur’s still chasing you. Despite the humid heat, you keep running, your heart pounding. You giggle as he yells again. You dart off into the thickest part of the trees, hiding behind a particularly large trunk. 

You can hear Arthur running through the foliage, searching for you. He calls your name but you ignore him, grinning. 

“You playin’ one of your goofy games again, Y/N?” 

Still you don’t respond, but you shift your leg and break a twig. Arthur turns immediately to the sound and grins. He comes over slowly, making no noise. He jumps around the tree and grabs you around the waist, making you scream. 

“Gotcha!” he yells. 

You giggle and stretch up to kiss him. He pushes you against the tree, a wicked grin on his face. You think he might be about to try and make a move, taking you right here right now. He plants his hands near your shoulders and bends down. Just before your lips meet, he opens his mouth a bit, his hot breath washing over your face. 

“Catch me if you can.” 

He darts off around the tree, and you’re too taken by surprise to immediately follow him. Goddammit, he played you! You rush off in the direction he went, but there’s no sign of him. 

“Arthur!” you whine, but there’s no response. Guess you deserved this. Luckily his horse is a dead giveaway, as she’s very attached to him and likes to follow him. You just watch where she goes and then you see his elbow, sticking out from behind a tree. You grin and crouch down, going over to him as silently as you can. When you’re near the tree, you stand up and reach around, grabbing his arm. “I caught ya!”

He raises his hands, smiling. “That ya did.” You reach up and plant your lips on his. Just as he’s about to wrap his arms around you, you push him away. “That’s for teasing me!” 

You run off again, hiding behind a boulder. For the next little while, you and Arthur play your game of hide and seek. Whenever you find each other, you reward the winner with a kiss. On his fifth find, you reach up and kiss him, pushing him against a tree. He groans a bit when you gently bite his lower lip. You know exactly where to hide next. 

“Cover your eyes, Arthur. My turn to run.” 

He chuckles, though you can tell he’s a bit disappointed. He does as you say though and puts a hand over his eyes. You run off, heading towards the lake. You start removing clothes as you run, purposefully leaving a very visible trail. 

When you reach the shore of the lake, you strip out of the rest of your clothes and then wade into the warm water. Arthur’s minute is over, you know it, so you quickly go in deeper until the water is to your shoulders. You lower yourself so that the water is right under your chin. You’re getting a bit chilly in the water, but you stay where you are. 

Arthur easily finds your shedded clothing and it only takes him a moment to find where the trail ends. He looks out into the water and easily spots your head and you grin. 

“What ya doin’ in there?” he calls. 

“Cooling down. Wanna join me?” 

He grins and you watch him strip down, your eyes unashamedly going to between his legs, his length semi-hard. The last thing he removes is his hat, though he’s given you quite a show. He walks slowly into the water, teasing you as he goes agonizingly slow. 

“Will you just get your cowboy butt in here?” you holler. He grins and stops, putting his hand on his hip and cocking it out a bit. He’s trying to lure you over to him and it’s working. You start walking over to him where he’s wading up to his hips. When the water gets below your breasts, he stares just as shamelessly as you stared at him, but you don’t mind. 

When you get to him, you wrap your arms around his waist and reach up, kissing him. His lips part and his tongue comes out to explore your lips, and you eagerly meet it with yours. His hands glide up your back and he lets out a long, deep breath. You press your body against his and you feel his rock hard cock pressing against your hip. 

“Mm, happy to see me?” you grin. 

He responds by leaning down a bit and sliding his finger through your slick folds, making you yelp a bit. “About as happy as you are,” he chuckles. 

You grab his hand and lead him over to the shore. When the water’s around your ankles, he’s gone far enough. He grabs your hips, spins you around to face him and then pushes you down. You immediately spread your legs, wrapping your arms around his neck. His lips crash to yours and he sinks down, his erection pushing into your opening. You groan as he pushes himself as deep as he can. 

“God, you feel good,” he moans against your lips. His right hand leaves the sand and squeezes your breast, making your fingers dig into his back. His lips glide from yours, down your jaw and settle over your neck. He starts to kiss and lick your neck, making you even more excited. You push your hips up a bit and feel him smile. 

He begins to buck slowly, his length sliding in and out. “Oh, Arthur,” you say breathily as he moves at a steady pace. His finger leaves your nipple and glides down your body, finally ending at your thigh. He slides his hand behind your knee and then lifts it up, allowing him to sink even deeper. You hiss as he pushes in hard, spreading your walls further. You start grinding your hips in response, which only causes his bucking to become faster and harder. His head brushes your spot, making you yelp again. 

He chuckles and bends your leg so it’s crooked around his waist and then his hand slides between your sweating bodies, going for your slit. He tickles your clit, making you tilt your head back as he continues to kiss your neck. He keeps on thrusting into your core, brushing your spot while he rubs your center. The stimulation is too much and you feel yourself hurtling towards the edge. You feel your release growing, stars erupting in your eyes as it gets closer. Arthur bucks hard and you’re gone. You grit your teeth, your back arching. You push your hips up as much as you can manage beneath him. He chuckles into your neck and brushes your clit again, prolonging your orgasm. 

“Arthur!” you whimper. You can’t take anymore of it, it’s getting close to torture. Arthur seems to sense that you’re done, so his hand leaves your folds, but he continues to push himself in and out. He’s chasing his own release now. You run your hands over his chest, brushing through his hair. You know this turns him on and he responds, his thrusting becoming less rhythmic and harder. His hips snap and he bursts inside you. He bites your shoulder gently, his hands squeezing your hips as he thrusts a bit more, every push growing softer. Finally he stops, his length growing soft and then he gently pulls himself out of your tender opening. 

He rolls over onto his back, the sun bathing his skin. He couldn’t look more handsome if he tried. Your eyes rake down his face, his neck, his chest, down his treasure trail. He sees your eyes wandering and he blushes. 

“Come here, you,” he says, extending his arm to you. You grin and roll over, curling into him and plopping your head on his chest. His fingers trace across your shoulder. Despite the intense heat from before, this feels perfect. The water lapping at your lower legs helps keep you cool while the sun washes over your naked bodies. Arthur’s hot beneath you and you listen to his pounding heart, which grows slower and steadier as he calms down from your session. You rub your hand up his stomach and to his chest, gently brushing the hair there. 

You look up at Arthur and smile. “I love you, Mr. Morgan.” 

“And I love you, Mrs. Morgan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any feedback is greatly appreciated! See something that might need fixing, let me know! Leave a kudos if you liked it!


	56. Just a quickie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hi dear writer, I hope this quarantine has been treating you well? I have a naughty request to make. Fem reader is on guard duty, doesn't see Arthur entering camp (Cause he entered from another direction.) He surprises her by grabbing her and pulling her behind a tree for a quickie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: smut with a bit of fluff

This could not be anymore boring. You hate taking guard duty, it really is the worst job in camp. No wonder why Bill’s always in a sour mood when he’s done with it. You sigh heavily. At least the trees surrounding Horseshoe Overlook are pretty, and at least you can watch the variety of birds and occasionally a deer looking for good vegetation to browse. 

You stand on the edge of the trees, not seeing anyone approach. You sigh and go back a little deeper into the trees, a bit closer to camp. You wish Arthur was here, he always likes to keep you company when you get stuck with this job. However, he went off to do a job early this morning. He’d given you a brief kiss before leaving (away from the sight of anyone else in camp). 

You shoulder the repeater, knowing no one will be coming that you need to worry about, and start picking your nails for want of something to do. Suddenly you’re grabbed around the waist and pushed against a tree. You yelp, prepared to scream, but a hand goes over your mouth. 

“Just me, sweetheart,” Arthur’s low, rough voice says in your ear. He suddenly starts kissing your neck. 

“Arthur!” you giggle. “What are you doing?” 

“Mm,” is his only response. His hands grip your hips and he starts rubbing his lips against the skin of your neck. You fold your arms around his shoulders and then you feel his waist pressing against you, his bulge hard. 

“What’s gotten into you?” you say, knowing now what he’s wanting. You and Arthur have only made love a handful of times, and they’ve all been in places that were away from camp. He’s never tried to initiate it within camp, not even in the border of the trees like this. 

“Met some damn O’Driscolls on the road,” Arthur groans into your neck. “When I finished them, I couldn’t stop thinkin’ how damn lucky I am to come back to you.” He tickles the soft spot of your neck with the scruff on his chin, making you giggle. 

Knowing he needs a release, you slide your hands down his body and to the button of his pants. You undo them quickly and reach in, gripping his hard cock. He groans at your touch and his hands squeeze your hips. You whip his length from his pants and start rubbing his length; it twitches hard in response. 

“Has anyone seen Arthur?” you hear Hosea’s voice coming down from camp. “I thought I saw him.” 

“Shit,” you hiss. “Arthur, we gotta make this quick.” 

He sighs in frustration, but then his hands go to your pants. He rips them down suddenly and then lifts your leg up, wrapping it around his waist. You whimper a bit as he pushes himself inside. All the other times you’ve made love, he’s been so considerate of getting you excited before entering you. He must know you aren’t quite ready; he slides two fingers into your slit and starts tickling your clit. You groan into his touch, feeling your muscles beginning to relax. 

“Mm, Arthur,” you say breathily. He goes back to kissing your neck and then he starts to thrust into you as his fingers rub your pulsing nub. Since he was already half done when you both started, it doesn’t take long for him to get worked up to the point that he’s shooting his seed into you. He moans as he releases, his hands squeezing your thighs hard. 

You think he’s going to leave you half-baked as he pulls his softening cock out of you, but instead he pushes his two fingers into you. He begins pushing them in and out of you. 

“Arthur,” you whimper again. He chuckles into your neck and then his lips press against yours. His thumb brushes your clit, making you push your hips out. He starts to fuck you hard with his hand as he kisses you. Your hands start to glide over his back and chest, as you like feeling his firm body. He’s just so damn hot! You begin panting, feeling that desired release edging closer. His thumb circles your clit and his fingers press in hard and you’re gone, a hiss slipping from between your teeth. 

“That’s my girl,” Arthur utters against your lips. He slowly pulls his hand from your folds and then holds you tight against him, which is good since your legs are especially shaky. You kiss him again and he smiles. “Yeah, you’re a’right,” he says. 

“That was good, Arthur,” you say. “Maybe tonight I’ll come visit your tent when everyone else is asleep.” 

He suddenly pinches your butt, making you yelp and giggle. “You better,” he chuckles. He stuffs himself back into his pants as you pull up your pants. He kisses you one last time. 

“When I see what Hosea needs, I’ll come back down, keep ya company.” 

“Thank you, Arthur.” You grab him for a final kiss, not wanting him to leave. He grins and gives you a wink when he pulls away. You watch him go up to camp, shamelessly watching his rear end. You sigh when he disappears from view, wanting him to come back already. 

Luckily, Arthur comes back after a few minutes. He folds you into his arms, pressing your face into his chest. 

“Arthur, I have to keep watch,” you say after a few seconds, even though this is all you want to do. 

“No one’s comin’, darlin’. Let’s just enjoy this.” He sits down against the tree he pushed you against earlier and then pulls you into his lap. You settle against his chest, his heat going through it and sinking into your skin. You kiss the triangle of his exposed chest and his arms tighten around you. He kisses your head in response. You couldn’t be more comfortable, wrapped in the arms of the man you love, his heart thumping loud in your ear, his scent flooding your nostrils. He smells wonderful, like home. You wouldn’t trade this moment for anything in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a kudos if you liked what you read. Better yet, leave a comment! I love talking with my readers!


	57. The Hunter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hey there! Can you write Arthur teaching reader how to hunt, shoot a gun like he taught Charlotte? ( I ship them too btw.) First encounter, they obvious meet. Second encounter, reader's excitement takes the best of her after shooting a bottle that she and Arthur accidentally kiss and she quickly apologizes and feels embarrassed that she runs back inside. The third encounter, they both fall in love, can't stop thinking about each other and he asks her to be gf when paying her a visit again.

Hungry. So hungry. Of course, this has become the standard for you. For the past few days, you’ve been nothing but hungry. You’re at the cabin near Cattail Pond, one of the few cabins your brother could find that was just far enough from a town he couldn’t be found and that wasn’t already occupied. He’s dead now though, leaving you in the mess he created. 

You and your brother used to live in San Francisco and had a comfortable life as your parents left enough money for you both before they died. Your brother, the fool that he was, ended up spending almost all both your and his money gambling or on useless ventures. Then he borrowed money, built up an impressive debt, and had no way to pay it back. You had a job making clothes in a factory and he had one working as a fisherman, but they didn’t make enough money to pay off his debts. Eventually he grabbed you and the two of you fled, but the debts seemed to follow him no matter where he went. That was why he picked this cabin: it’s secluded enough from a town that he’d be harder to find. 

Things were going okay for the first couple of weeks, but food was running low and neither of you knew the first thing about hunting. Picking herbs was easy enough as there was an abundance in the surrounding areas, but you both needed meat. Your brother tried using his one firearm, an old pistol, to hunt but he wasn’t good. You didn’t even know how to shoot a gun, so you weren’t any help either. 

Things took another bad turn when your one horse, the one who brought you both here in a small wagon, got mauled by a grizzly bear. Life became even harder as now neither of you could travel to Valentine to buy goods as it was a solid day’s walk on foot. You didn’t have the money either to go to Valentine and buy another horse as your brother spent a good amount of the little you had on a poker game. You’d screamed and cried at him when you found out, furious that he was still doing the things that wrecked both your lives. 

Then one day, your brother stopped being your burden, though you felt horrible for seeing him that way. He’d been trying to hunt a ram from the nearby pond, but he knew so little about guns that when he was fumbling with his pistol, he’d accidentally shot himself in the head. You found him a few hours later and buried him. It was a relief to no longer be tethered to him but his damage was too great to end at his death. His debts now settled on your shoulders, preventing you from returning to your home. 

That’s why you’re still here at this tiny cabin with almost nothing to eat except a few herbs, wild vegetables and roots. You want to learn how to use your brother’s gun, but you’re scared you’ll make his mistake and shoot yourself. Still, the need for food is starting to push out and you’re becoming more tempted to at least try. 

You’re sitting on the porch of your cabin as the sun’s getting lower in the sky. You’ve never felt so desperate and alone. Not only are you days from starving, you haven’t had contact with another person since your brother died. What you wouldn’t give to see someone else’s face, say something as simple as hello. 

Your stomach rumbles again, reminding you of its need. Your storage of edible plants is getting low; you’ll need to go gathering again. This has its own challenges, as you aren’t entirely sure what’s around that’s safe to eat. You’ve only picked the food you recognize, like the wild carrots, oregano, mint and raspberries. You go up to the trail and head over to the pond, looking for what food you can find. 

Your presence over the past few weeks has another set back: most of the wild plants you can pick haven’t been able to regrow quickly enough to sustain you and you’re too nervous to venture into new places to look. This is obviously bear territory and you can’t be sure if there’s other predators, such as wolves or cougars. The pond itself can be frightening enough since that’s where your horse was mauled. 

As the pond comes into view, you curse your brother for the fourth time today. He was a fisherman in the city, but being the idiot he was, he neglected to grab his fishing gear when he’d grabbed you and fled. You knew how to fish, you could easily have gotten meat from this pond. You’ve seen the fish basking in the shallows, and some are a decent size. Yet you’ve no way to get them. 

You bend down on the shore of the pond, pulling a tiny carrot from the ground. It’s the last one in this area, another blow. You see purple flowers around that seem to be attached to some kind of root, but you’ve no idea if they’re safe to eat or not. You go a little further away from the pond, looking for anything to eat. 

You sit down on a rock after a short while, feeling desperate and hungry. Perhaps it’s time for you to take that day’s walk to Valentine, get a job there. You know the only jobs they offer women are saloon girls or hotel workers. Still, you’d be able to at least get a decent meal. The only thing stopping you is where you’ll shelter yourself when not working. It’ll take some time to afford a horse, but maybe sleeping on the street would be the best option until you could afford one. However, being in a town has its risks: the debt collectors could very well find you there. That was why your brother chose this cabin, after all. 

Just as you’re contemplating the weight of your options, you hear footsteps. You turn and see a man, standing not too far away. He has a bow and arrow in his hand, the arrow pointed at the ground. 

“Hello, ma’am,” he says. 

You shoot up to your feet. You can’t tell if he’s real or not. Maybe you’re hallucinating him, your hunger making you go crazy, but you don’t care. You’re so relieved to see another person finally. 

“Sir!” you say. 

He tilts his head a bit. It’s then you realize you’re filthy, as you haven’t had the energy to heat enough water to bathe in during the last couple of days. 

“You a’right?” he asks. 

You smile, but it falters. “Well… since you ask, no not really.” You look away, feeling a sudden urge to cry. You’ve never felt so weak and pathetic and he’s a tall, broad man. Guessing from his stance, he has some experience hunting. You feel even more foolish in the realization that you’ve no business living in the wilderness like this when you don’t know the first thing about keeping yourself alive. 

“You mind me askin’ what happened to ya?” he asks as a tear slides down your cheek. 

You start wringing your hands and tell him a brief version of your story, about your damn brother who started your problems. 

“We didn’t know the first thing about hunting when he decided to live here,” you say. “He tried using his gun to hunt and ended up shooting himself. I buried him about a week ago.” 

“Ah, I’m real sorry, ma’am,” the man says. 

You nod in thanks. You want nothing more than to ask him for his help but you’re not sure how to do it. You’ve already noticed how handsome he is and it was obvious when you first saw him he was tracking something. You’ve already delayed him enough, he’s probably lost the trail. You sit down on the rock again, not wanting to keep him further. 

He takes a small step closer to you. “Ma’am, is there anywhere I could take you? A train maybe?” 

“No, I… I can’t afford a ticket. Besides, my… my brother had a lot of debt and it’s fallen on me now to repay it. I’m afraid they’ll find me in town and he didn’t leave enough money for me to repay it. I can’t even afford a sick, old mule.” 

You turn away from him again, feeling even more pathetic. You suddenly wish this man would just leave. You can just feel his judging eyes on your back. 

“You, uh, you have anything to eat out here?” he asks, pulling you from your thoughts. 

You look up at him. “Nothing. Neither of us knew the first thing about hunting, hell we barely knew enough about foraging to keep us going. In fact, not enough as it turns out. I hardly know what’s around me that’s safe to eat.” 

He sighs and gets a bit closer. “Well you ain’t gonna last much longer out here like this. Come on.” You look up at him again, unaware of the pleading look in your eyes. “I’ll show ya how to hunt somethin’, give you a few days’s food anyways.” 

You stand up, brushing your hands off on your jeans. “O-okay. Like I said though, I don’t know the first thing.” 

“We’ll start with somethin’ small. Rabbit or a turkey. I’ll shoot, you skin, sound fair?” 

“But I don’t even have a knife.” 

“You won’t need one. I’ll help ya. Now let’s find somethin’.” 

He looks around, but you’re sure he’s seeing a lot more than you are. He beckons you to follow him down a little ways from the pond and you do so, trying to keep your footing quiet. 

“Ah, there’s one,” he whispers, stopping suddenly. 

“There’s what? I don’t see anything.” 

“Focus. You see there by that bush?” he points straight ahead. 

You narrow your eyes a bit and then something small moves beside it. A rabbit’s nibbling on a long blade of grass. The man takes his bow and an arrow from his back. He notches it, pulls the string and then, after a few seconds, lets go. The rabbit lets out a small squeak, the arrow going through its body. 

“Good shot!” you say, despite yourself. He smiles at you, making your heart skip a beat and then leads you over to it. 

“A’right, go ahead and skin it.” 

“But I… I mean, how do I do it?” 

The man tells you how to hold the rabbit and to just pull the flesh from the body. You pick up the rabbit by the back legs and start to yank on the skin, but it holds firm. 

“Pull hard,” the man says. 

You readjust your grip and then yank again. Still the skin doesn’t move from the body. You can feel the man smiling, but you’re determined not to have him show you how to do this. You yank as hard as you can and finally the flesh tears and pulls away from the body. 

“It worked!” you say. 

The man chuckles. “Well there ya go. I’m, uh, guessin’ you know how to cook it?” 

You smile and nod. “Yes, I do actually know how to do that. Thank you so much for catching this.” 

You stuff the skin into your satchel and then start carrying the carcass to your cabin. You expect the man will just wish you luck and go back to tracking his original target. Instead he accompanies you to your cabin. 

“Well, this should keep you fed a few days at least,” he says. 

“Yes, definitely,” you say. “I just hope I can make it afterwards.” 

“I’d recommend you learn how to use your brother’s gun.”

“Yes, I think that’s really my only option at this point. Whether or not I’ll end up being as stupid as my brother is yet to be seen.” 

“I’m sure you’ll be just fine. Just don’t ever point the barrel at yourself and you’ll be okay.” 

You chuckle, despite yourself. When you get to the porch, you turn to the man. “Thank you, sir. You know, you’re the first person who’s done anything good for me since I left the city. My brother wasn’t just an idiot, he was demeaning and… just not a nice man. You’ve already done more for me than he’s done in the past five years.” 

The man smiles. “I’m just glad to be of service, ma’am. Here, why don’t ya take this? You probably need this more than I will.” 

He hands you a book about North American plants. Flipping through it, you can see it’s highly illustrated and each description comes with a section on if the plant’s edible. 

“Are you sure?” you ask, not daring to hope. 

“Of course. I know most plants I come across already, I don’t need that. It’ll just be takin’ up space for me. You, though, can actually put it to good use.” 

You smile. “Sir, I can’t repay your kindness.” 

“Just get some rest and a good meal. You have a good evenin’, ma’am.” He tips his hat and heads back up the way you’d come down. You watch him, smiling. For the first time since you came to this place, you feel a bubble of hope in your chest. 

************************

Three days have gone by since the man undeniably saved your life. After you chopped up the rabbit he’d caught and cooked up some, you’d gone to sleep with a satisfied stomach for the first time in days. You’d spent the next two days looking through the book he’d given you and foraging some of the plants you’ve seen around the pond and just didn’t know was safe to eat. The purple flowers turn out to be Burdock root. 

You came back last night with your satchel on the brink of overflowing with plants and ended up going to sleep last night with a full stomach. You haven’t tried shooting your brother’s pistol yet, still a bit nervous about it, but you’ll have to try today since the rabbit is nearly gone. You inspect the gun and study how it works. You arrange a variety of bottles near the pond on a few different boulders to shoot at. 

You aim at the bottles and for the next hour try to shoot, with no success. The gun has a fierce kickback, which you just can’t get used to. You hold your breath every time you shoot too, believing it’ll help you aim better. 

At the end of the hour, you shoot again but miss yet again. “Damn it!” you say. 

“Glad to see you’re at least not pointing it at your face,” you hear a familiar voice. You turn and see the man.

“Yes, I’ve at least figured out that much,” you say, smiling. “Now figuring out how to actually hit something with it is a different matter.” 

He chuckles and pulls out his revolver. “Here, I’ll show ya a few things.” He aims the gun and shoots it, striking a bottle. You try not to admire his form, the shape of his chest and sides. God, you need to see more people. The first man you see and you’re already getting a crush. You blush and smile when he smirks at you. 

“How did you do that?” 

“Take a stance like mine and I’ll help ya.” You copy his pose and he walks up behind you, putting his hands on your shoulders. You try to ignore how big and warm they are. “Okay, loosen your upper arm. You’re too tense. Take in a breath. Aim. Let out your breath and fire.” 

You try ignoring how close he is and how good his hands feel on your shoulder, focus on what he’s saying. You do as he says and shoot. A part of the boulder beneath the bottle you’d been aiming for explodes in a small cloud of dust, leaving behind a sizable dent. 

“That’s the closest I’ve gotten since I started!” you exclaim. 

He chuckles and pats your shoulder. “Good work. My turn.” 

He doesn’t take a step back and you get the feeling he likes the closeness just as much as much as you do. He aims his revolver again and you take the opportunity to look back at him and study his face. He’s goddamn handsome, his neck thick and gleaming from the slight amount of sweat. He pulls the hammer and then shoots, another bottle exploding. 

“Showoff,” you say. 

He chuckles. “Take your turn now. Focus on the exhale.” 

You take your stance again and breathe out slowly. You shoot and the bottle explodes. 

“I hit it!” you say excitedly. “I hit it!” You turn and grin at him. “Did you see that? I hit it!” 

He laughs and pats your arm. “That ya did. You want to go some more or are ya done?”

Your wrist is starting to cramp up from the kickback. “Maybe I’ll just try and catch something, then I’ll be done. Could… I mean, would you have the time to help me if I need it?” 

He nods. “Of course. You take the lead though.” 

You grin and head off away from the pond, looking for any sign of movement. It doesn’t take long before you find a small group of wild turkeys picking through the grass. The man hunkers down right behind you; he’s so close you can almost feel his breath on the back of your neck. You ignore the goosebumps and aim your pistol. You focus on your breathing, relax your arm and then shoot. The bullet strikes the turkey’s neck and it falls without making a sound, already dead. 

“I hit it!” you shoot up, making the man laugh again. “I hit the turkey!” 

The man laughs and pats your shoulder. “Sure.” 

You turn and smile at him. “This is all in thanks to you! I never would’ve gotten this far without your help.” 

“Oh I’m sure you would’ve figured it out on your own.” 

“No,” you say softly. “I wouldn’t have. Listen, I’d love to repay you in some way. Would you at least join me for a meal? I still have some of that rabbit.” 

He smiles and takes your offer. You lead him to your cabin with the turkey carcass slung over your shoulder, aware that he’s not even three feet from you. 

You show him into your cabin, which consists of nothing more than a large room with your bed in the corner. When your brother was alive, you were forced to sleep on the floor in a bedroll since your brother claimed he needed a soft bed to help alleviate the stress. When he died, you cleaned it and took over it yourself. 

You tell the man to have a seat and he takes it as you dish out the last of the rabbit, having cooked it this morning. You also scoop out some boiled roots and raspberries. 

“Help yourself,” you say. “You helped me create this meal anyways.” 

You sit down across from him with your own plate. The man smiles and takes a bite. “Hmm, how’d you season this?” 

“I found some thyme and oregano weeks ago, been drying it ever since. I may not be skilled in catching my own food, but my mother taught me how to make it taste good.” 

The man grins. “Well, this is certainly some of the best I’ve had in awhile.” 

You blush. “I’m so sorry, sir. I don’t even know your name. You’ve helped me so much, I’d love to put a name to your face.” 

“Arthur. Arthur Morgan. And may I ask yours?” 

You tell him. Over the meal, you start talking more and more about your lives, telling him more details about your brother. You talk about your life of luxury before your parents died and your brother squandered your inheritances. 

“No offense, but that life sounds awful,” he says at the end of your story. “I could never handle livin’ in a city like that. Seems… meaningless.” 

“Oh it was,” you say. “Truly meaningless and empty. In the city, you simply exist whereas out here, you have to earn your survival.” 

Arthur grins at you across the table. He really is a handsome and sweet man. You blush a bit and return to your food. “So tell me, Mr. Morgan, about your life. You certainly look like a man who's been to many places.” 

He chuckles a bit. “Well, that I have. But if you’re thinkin’ that I’m just a hunter or an adventurer, you’d be wrong. I’m…” he hesitates for a few seconds and you can tell he’s contemplating. You wait patiently. “I’m an outlaw.” 

“An outlaw?” you repeat, your voice showing no sign of accusation nor do you feel any. He’s already proven to possess a kind heart and he likely just made some mistakes along the way. “Well that certainly sounds exciting. Much more so than my empty existence.” 

“Awe, ma’am, I’ll think you’ll find you’re worth much more than you think.” 

You blush again. Arthur clears his throat and looks at his empty plate, then he glances out the window to where the sky’s growing dark. “Well thank ya for the meal, ma’am, but I better head out. Got some things I need to take care of before the day’s done.” 

“Of course, and please call me Y/N.” 

He grins and stands up. You follow him out to the porch. He turns around to thank you and you respond by reaching up on your toes to kiss his cheek. Little did you know he bent down at the same time to kiss yours and your lips accidentally touch. He shoots away from you as though he’d been electrocuted. 

“Oh my God, Mr. Morgan, I am so sorry! That was my fault!” 

“No it was mine,” he says quickly, though he hides his eyes beneath his hat. It’s clear he’s trying to be kind when he must be disgusted. 

“Well, thank you again. For everything. And sorry for… that. I certainly didn’t mean… I mean, you… you’re a good man for helping me… well, I guess you gotta go, so I’ll say good night. Good night!” 

Your face burning, you dash back inside and close the door gently. You peak out the window and see him turning away and going down to his horse. You see his arm bend and it looks as though he’s rubbing his lips. You can’t say you blame him, he’s probably beyond just disappointed and disgusted. You don’t know that he’s brushing his lips, recalling the feeling of yours on them just as you’re doing the same. 

***********************

It’s been almost a week since the accidental kiss and you’ve seen and heard nothing from Arthur. You’re not surprised, he’s obviously not wanting to see you again, probably afraid you might kiss him again. Not that you would, of course. Sure, he’s handsome and you find yourself thinking about him more often than not, especially how his lips felt against yours, but you certainly wouldn’t try to kiss him if he decided to visit. 

You sit on your porch, stitching together two rabbit pelts. One was from the time Arthur shot the first one and the other is from yesterday when you’d caught a second one. You’ve been practicing with the pistol everyday just like Arthur showed you and you’ve improved significantly. You spend a solid three hours everyday on the porch just in case Arthur shows up again, though you’re doubtful. Honestly, if you were him, you wouldn’t come calling again either. 

You’re just about to call it a day and grab your gear in order to go foraging again as the sun reaches the middle of the sky. You set down the pelts and stand up but then you hear something. You look over and see Arthur approaching, a slight pink tinge to his cheeks. 

“Arthur!” you say. You smile and clasp your hands. 

“Hello, Y/N. Just… thought I’d come see how you’re managing.” 

You blush and look down. “Oh I’m getting by just fine, thanks to you. You know, you’re… you’re the closest thing I’ve had to a friend in a long time.” 

He smiles and walks up the two steps to the porch. He’s much closer than you would’ve thought he’d be, considered what happened last time. You take a step back, not wanting to make him feel pressured. 

“Well, Y/N, it’s been a real plessure knowin’ ya. I… I wanted to ask ya somethin’. Maybe we can call it a repayment.” He blushes again and looks down, hiding his eyes again. 

“Yes, Mr. Morgan? What is it?” 

He sighs and rubs his neck. “Perhaps could we… try that kiss again? Only properly this time. I won’t move this time.” 

You smile and walk up to him. You reach up to press a kiss to his cheek, but he turns his head just before you do and your lips meet his again. You don’t pull away and neither does he. You open your mouth a little and he does too, then you feel his arms wrap around you, pulling you even closer. One of your arms goes behind him and settles on his back while you press the other hand to his neck, your thumb tracing his jaw. He deepens the kiss, his hot breath washing over your face. You can taste the subtle hint of coffee and tobacco with a minty end. 

Arthur pulls away slightly, his face flushed. “Sorry, hope you don’t think I was takin’ advantage, he says in a deep, rough voice. 

“Trust me, Mr. Morgan, that was the last thing I was thinking.” 

He smiles. “Well in that case, may I ask a favor? Can you stop callin’ me Mr. Morgan and could I call ya… my girl maybe?” 

“Arthur, are you asking to date me?” you grin. 

He huffs a soft laugh. “Guess I am.” 

You respond by kissing him again. He sighs into it and you can feel him smiling. Finally your life has taken an interesting turn. For so long, you’ve merely lived each day with feeling no excitement, no desire to satisfy your curiosities. Now a new door seems to be opening up and Arthur was the one who showed you it was even there. You wonder, as you stand there and kiss him, what other doors he’ll help you open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked what you read, leave a kudos. Even better, leave a comment!


	58. Arthur walking his daughter down the aisle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Could you write something about Arthur walking his daughter down the aisle? His emotions etc.?

Arthur is just the proudest papa bear that has ever lived when it comes to his daughter’s wedding day. He’s nothing but hugs and tears the entire day. 

You better believe he puts on his nicest suit. He wants everything to be absolutely perfect for his little girl. He’s an even bigger wreck than he was for his own wedding. 

He absolutely gave his soon-to-be son/daughter in law a stern talking to. The whole “you break my girl’s heart, I break your legs” spiel. Of course, by this point he pretty much knows that won’t happen. His daughter’s SO would’ve already had to jump through a significant amount of hoops to win Arthur over. 

It was required that his daughter’s SO to ask Arthur to marry her. After all, everyone who even looks at Arthur knows how protective he is. He’d never respect that person if they didn’t ask, and if he said no the first time, they’d damn well better respect that too. No shotgun wedding or eloping, that would never sit well with Arthur. 

Luckily, that wasn’t the case when his daughter’s SO asked him to marry his daughter. He did like him/her and was happy to welcome them into his family. He gave them his blessing when they asked, but Arthur being Arthur, he made sure to intimidate them a little. 

When it comes to actually walking his daughter down the aisle, Arthur is just the biggest, softest thing. He openly cries, not even caring if the others judges him for it. He wants them to see how proud and happy he is. 

When they reach the alter, Arthur kisses his daughter on the cheek and whispers in her ear how proud he is and how much he loves them. He even throws the groom/other bride a dashing smile. 

After the ceremony, during the banquet, Arthur makes sure to make a toast in honor of his daughter and their new spouse. He’s not usually one to talk in front of large crowds, but he knows it would mean a lot to his little girl, so he does it. He also apologizes to anyone he’s been short with recently as he’s been a bundle of nerves the last few weeks. 

The father-daughter dance makes everyone cry. Arthur holds his daughter so tenderly and kisses her forehead, a big goofy grin on his face the whole time. He cries a little this time. He whispers in his daughter’s ear how beautiful she is and that no matter what happens, she’ll always be his little girl. 

At the end of the night, Arthur will take his new son/daughter in-law and hug them. He’s never hugged them before but he wants them to know how important this is to him. They are his family, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked what you read, leave a kudos. Better yet, a comment!


	59. "Why do you hate me?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Could you do 5: “ Why do you hate me? ” with Arthur and his crush because I live to suffer (taken from a Tumblr list of writing prompts)

You finish cleaning the last of the laundry for the day. It’s nearly sunset and the tips of your fingers have been rubbed raw from the washboard, but you ignore the slight burn. Your hands have been getting tougher the last few weeks, calluses developing on your once soft skin. Your entire body is growing firmer living here with this wild bunch. 

You’ve been with the gang just a little over a month now and your life couldn’t be more different. You spent most of your life with your parents until they both died years ago in a drowning accident near the banks of Blackwater. Since you weren’t quite an adult yet, you were sent to live with your uncle. He was a pastor for the local church, but he was as far from Godly as he could be. 

For the next few years, your life with your uncle was horrible. Your uncle, despite his preaching to be good, clean people, he constantly got drunk and beat you. There were a few times he even touched you inappropriately, and when you tried fighting back he’d beat you even harder. He dragged you to church every Sunday and you’d have to sit through his sermons and hear the hypocrisy spill from his mouth. How you hated hearing him tell everyone else to be kind and patient, to give charitably, to avoid excessive drinking and to be as much like Christ as they could be. How dare he say those things when he was doing such terrible things to you behind closed doors? 

When you got to be older, you tried many times to leave, to run away, but he seemed to have a sense of when you’d try and break out. It got to the point he started chaining you to your bed at night, and sometimes left you there for days, bringing you just enough food to stay alive. When people mentioned your absence, he’d wave them off by saying you were visiting a cousin and would return shortly. He also brushed away any visible marks he left on you by stating you were a wild child, falling from horses and running through the brush, but that he wouldn’t try to curb your active nature. 

Finally it all got to be too much, the beatings, the rape, the lies. The hungry nights chained to a bed. One night at the table, he started getting drunk and you could see the telling signs he was preparing to attack you. You armed yourself with a large knife and when he rushed you, you shoved it into his throat and killed him. It was only a day or two before people discovered him, but you’d already fled town. Everyone knew it was you and you heard rumors they wanted to hang you for killing the preacher. 

A week after killing your uncle, you were in desperate need of help as you knew nothing of living outdoors and on your own. You had no food or any kind of shelter. All you had was your horse and a few sparse supplies. You didn’t even have a gun. 

You went to Blackwater, where no one was looking for you. You became a street beggar, but with little success, so you started pick-pocketing people when you could risk it. One day, you picked the pocket of a tall man with black hair and a thick mustache. He caught on quick and dragged you down an alleyway where he was met by another man, thin and grey-haired. 

You thought these two men would shoot you, and for a moment they seemed to think they might. Then they surprised you by suggesting you come with them, join their gang of outlaws. You took their offering. 

Not long after you joined, the Blackwater heist fell apart, forcing you and everyone else to flee and leaving a couple of the others scattered or dead. A young girl close to your age named Jenny was killed and another man named Mac was shot. He died on the way to a frozen town named Colter. 

Now, here in Horseshoe Overlook, you and the others are settling in. You’ve become quite close with most of the others. You work with the other three girls, Karen, Mary-Beth and Tilly. They welcomed you with curiosity and friendship. They helped teach you how to survive in this gang, how to pull your weight to keep an old crone named Grimshaw from getting after you. 

When you first arrived, you were horribly afraid of a man named Swanson as he was a drunken reverend. It didn’t take long though to realize that he was completely harmless and he never showed interest in attacking anyone. In fact, he was more prone to hurt himself instead of any of the others. He was a man of God who’d just fallen on hard times. 

You get along with pretty much everyone, and most of them seem to like you. Or at least they’ve accepted you. There is one exception though: a man named Arthur Morgan doesn’t seem to like you at all. He’s pretty much ignored you this whole time and he only spoke with you once when you first arrived. He did nothing but ask your name and your story and when you finished telling him, he wandered off and said nothing more. 

A few times, Dutch and Hosea, the patriarchs of the gang, have suggested to the other girls that you go with them and learn how to do some proper robbing. Whenever Arthur heard though, he’d come over and tell them you were the worst choice to go out and do any work like that, you simply couldn’t handle it. 

There’s been other instances where Arthur seemed to think you were too weak to handle yourself. Sure, you grew up in a luxurious life, but you were willing to learn. Arthur just didn’t want to let you for some reason. In fact, he seemed to think you didn’t belong here. You wondered many times why he disliked you so much. It unsettled you a bit how you often found him staring at you, and when you looked at him, he’d look away. The other girls said that Arthur had an extremely tough exterior but he possessed a good, soft heart. They could always depend on him to protect them when they needed it. You just couldn’t see how that could be. 

Grimshaw comes over and tells you to stop working, that the day’s chores are done and to get yourself some dinner. You go over to Pearson’s wagon and scoop yourself some of his stew onto a plate. Most days, this is what Pearson makes, but on occasion, he’ll mix it up with some cornbread or fresh vegetables. Of course, he always has cans of food and other provisions available at his wagon. You take a can of peaches before heading to the round table to eat. 

Just as you’ve sat down and begun eating, Arthur walks over and sits down across from you. You don’t know why he does since he clearly doesn’t like you. He’s done this a number of times, sitting near you at the fire or coming to listen when you’re chatting with the others. He never says anything and you can’t read what he’s thinking from his face. You swallow heavily and debate on whether or not to leave. After all, he’s a high-ranking member of the gang, directly underneath Dutch and Hosea. You’re just some dumb newbie compared to him. But you decide to stay, not wanting to seem rude and give him a reason to like you even less. 

The two of you sit at the table and eat, not speaking. He glances up at you every so often, making you feel incredibly small and pathetic. As you finish your meal, Pearson walks over. 

“Arthur, can you go to Valentine tomorrow? I need some supplies picked up from the store.” 

“Sure,” Arthur says and Pearson hands him a list. 

“Oh, and can you stop at the post office too?” 

Arthur nods and looks at the list. “Guess I’ll need to take someone along. Quite a list, Mr. Pearson.” 

Pearson looks at you and points in your direction. “Take Y/N here. Sure she can handle it just fine.” 

“No,” Arthur says, returning to his plate of stew. “No, she needs to stay here. Stay where the others can keep an eye on her.” 

Your heart sinks. You’d been hoping you could go to town, you’ve been cooped up here for weeks. You’re tired of seeing the same trees, the same people. Pearson sighs. 

“Just take her, Mr. Morgan. What’s the worst that can happen on a shopping trip?” 

Arthur throws him a look as if to say Pearson didn’t know how dangerous a shopping trip could be, but then he shrugs his shoulders. “Fine. Y/N, I’ll be leaving early. Be ready.” 

“Yes sir,” you say quietly. 

He throws you a curious glance but then he gets up and takes his empty plate over to the wash barrel. He doesn’t say anything or even look at you the rest of the night. You know he’s only taking you because Pearson twisted his arm. 

In the morning, you get ready as soon as the sun is up, but Arthur doesn’t even stir from his cot until the sun’s well up. Even then, he doesn’t leave immediately. He gets himself some coffee, chops some wood and then has a quick discussion with Dutch. You stay ready to go at any moment though, not wanting to give him a reason to get angry with you. 

Finally, Arthur calls you. “Let’s go,” he says. You rush over and climb into the wagon. He sits down next to you and you stiffen up. He lights a cigarette and then grabs the reins. 

“Know anythin’ ‘bout drivin’ wagons?” he asks. 

“A little,” you say. “My dad taught me the basics when I was young.” 

He hands you the reins and you drive the wagon to Valentine. Nothing happens on the way there, but you’re happy to see the little, muddy town. Other people mill about, most looking like ranchers and farmers. You drive the wagon down the main street and stop near the stables, not too far from the store. 

Arthur hops down without a word and throws the butt of his cigarette into the mud. He hands you Pearson’s list. “I’m gonna go check the post office,” he says and walks off. 

You go into the store and hand the clerk the list. He snaps at a shopboy who begins piling items into a box. You help him carry the boxes out to the wagon and start sliding them into the back. Arthur comes back after a short period, his hands empty. Post office must not have had anything. 

When the shopboy’s done loading up the wagon, you both climb up into it. You’re about to grab the reins but Arthur takes them and whips the horses into a steady trot. You wait for him to say something during the trip, but he doesn’t. He seems tense, anxious. You are, too. Why does he dislike you so much? Sure, you’re extremely inexperienced, but he won’t give you the chance to go out and learn. It’s not that you’re unwilling, you’ve even begged Dutch and Hosea a few times, but Arthur wins them out, pointing out that something is surely to go wrong. 

When you get back to camp, you start unloading the wagon when Bill and Lenny come up to you. 

“Y/N, you ever rob a stage before?” Bill says. 

“I’ve barely robbed anything before,” you say. 

“She’s perfect for the job!” Lenny says with a smile. He explains that the stage he and Bill want to rob will have drivers that are heavily suspicious of being robbed. They want you to go and stop the stage and pretend to be lost. Since you have no experience robbing, you’re the most innocent person in camp. 

“It’ll be easy,” Lenny finishes. 

“Just make sure you get into cover as quick as you can if they start shootin’,” Bill adds. 

“What’s goin’ on?” Arthur says, attracted by Lenny’s excitement. Lenny tells him the plan and Arthur lowers his brow. “Absolutely not. You ain’t takin’ her nowhere. She’s gonna stay in camp, work with the girls.” 

“But she’s perfect, Arthur!” Lenny pleads. “You’ve robbed this company before, you know how quick they are to draw fire.” 

“Exactly my point! She don’t know nothin’ about robbin’, ya ain’t takin’ her!” Arthur says. 

“Mr. Morgan!” you say sharply. “I want to help! People keep asking me to help with jobs and you won’t let me! Dutch and Grimshaw are always saying that everyone needs to earn my keep, now let me do my part!” 

“You ain’t goin’ and that’s final!” he snarls. You hold your ground. Arthur turns to Bill and Lenny and orders them to get someone else. When they turn away, muttering, you glare at Arthur. 

“Can I talk to you? Alone?” you ask. 

He sighs. “Fine.” 

You lead him into the trees and then round on him as soon as you’re out of shot from camp. 

“What is your problem with me?” you demand. 

“I ain’t got a problem-” 

“Yes you do, Mr. Morgan! Ever since I showed up, you haven’t liked me for even a second. The others want to teach me how to do work and I want to learn, but you always get in my way! I can learn, I’m a fast learner. I know I don’t know much now but that’ll change.” 

“You ain’t goin’ robbin’, Y/N. You ain’t right for the job!” he says. 

You stand there for a second, your anger rising. This man has done nothing except make your life even more difficult than it is, given the situation. You can see now he’s arrogant and prideful, and he doesn’t want you taking a share of the profits. 

“Why do you hate me?” you demand of him. 

“What?” he says, clearly taken off guard. 

“I said why do you hate me?” 

“I don’t hate-”

“Bullshit, don’t lie to me, Mr. Morgan! You haven’t liked me from the start. I don’t know what I said or did to piss you off, but you’re being an ass! All the other girls keep telling me I’ll see that you’re a nice guy, but you’ve done nothing to prove them right!” 

He sighs, his mouth in a tight frown. He looks down, his eyes hidden beneath the brim of his hat. “I don’t hate ya, Y/N. Farthest thing from it, actually.” His voice is soft and rough. 

“Then why are you doing this?” You put your hands on your hips. 

“Because I… I’m afraid for ya. You’ve been hurt a lot by that awful uncle, I just want ya safe.” 

This is the last thing you expected. Safe? Why would he care for your safety? Then you begin recalling all the arguments you’ve heard him have with the others when it came to you going out and working. He’s always mentioned that something could go wrong and you might get hurt, but not that you’d be the one causing it to go wrong. 

“I’m sorry if I’ve come off coarse,” he continues. “It’s just I… when I first met ya I…. I just wanted to… just wanted to protect ya.” 

He rubs the back of his neck. You take a step back from him, confused still. 

“Protect me? But you seem to be unhappy that I’m here.” 

“I’m not. Y/N, I don’t dislike ya. Maybe that’s the problem. I…. I really like ya. Been wantin’ to talk to ya for weeks, just didn’t know what to say.” 

“You say hello. You ask me my favorite color, for God’s sake, Arthur!” you say a little more harshly than you meant to. Is he being serious? Has he been so stern about you doing work because he wants you safe because he has a crush on you? That can’t be right. You’re a nobody and he’s, well, he’s Arthur Morgan! When you first saw him, you noted how tall and broad he was, and how lovely his eyes were. 

“I know. I been doin’ this all wrong,” Arthur says. “I just didn’t think you’d want to talk to me, big ugly bastard that I am.” 

You frown at him a bit. Those are the last words you’d use to describe him. “You always assume things when you meet someone new?” you ask quietly. 

“Don’t you?” he says. “I’m real sorry I came off that way, Y/N. Do you mind if maybe we start over? Try to get off on the right foot?” 

You sigh. “Sure, Arthur.” 

He smiles and it brightens up his face. “Thank ya. By the way, what is your favorite color?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a kudos if you liked this. Better yet, leave a comment! I love getting feedback!


	60. Birthday sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hey there! I've literally sat here thinking of a request to make lol. At first I wanted drama but then this other idea came up and I honestly can't wait anymore. Can we pretend it's the month of June and reader gives Arthur some good birthday sex? Also curse R* for not giving an actual day, I wanted to celebrate his bday like I do with my other hubby.

Arthur’s birthday is in a couple of days and you just want to give him the perfect day. Let’s be honest, this man doesn’t get a lot of selfish pleasure in this lifestyle. He deserves a good birthday. 

You go around camp and quietly ask the others what would make the perfect birthday for Arthur. Grimshaw suggests a good meal, not Pearson’s cooking, Mary-Beth suggests some writing or art supplies. Lenny recommends you don’t give him too much booze. You start to gather some ideas and then come up with a plan when Hosea mentions that Arthur might like at least pretending to have a normal life for once. 

On a day when Arthur’s out of camp, running to investigate a potential job, you take the opportunity to run off and find an empty cabin. Luckily it doesn’t take long and you find a small one room cabin near the Dakota river. A brief investigation tells you it hasn’t been lived in for some time, so you clean it up and make it look good. You just hope no one else comes across it before you can get Arthur into it.

***************************

The morning of Arthur’s birthday comes and you greet him with the usual cup of coffee. You made sure he slept in camp last night, but told everyone not to spoil any surprises for him. Arthur thanks you for the coffee with a slight nod of his head. 

“Happy birthday,” you say and give him a small kiss. 

“Mm, thank ya, sweetheart.” 

“So what are you now? 50, 60?” 

“Very funny,” he says, smiling and he takes a sip. 

You chuckle and pat his back. “Well, I need to go to the store in Valentine, pick something up. Wanna come with me?” 

“Sure,” he says, finishing his drink. 

You grab his hand and lead him over to Pearson’s wagon. You’d asked him last night if he would make a special breakfast. There, you find he’s made in a Dutch oven oatmeal mixed with peaches and spiced with cinnamon and brown sugar. Arthur sniffs it, almost as though suspicious, and then takes a bite. 

“This is actually pretty good,” he says. You giggle and eat your own oatmeal. 

After you’re both done eating, you take Arthur’s hand and go over to the horses, then you mount up and ride to Valentine. In the store, you pretend like you’re looking for something. Arthur asks you what, but you don’t answer him. Finally, feigning frustration, you go over to the clerk and ask him in a quiet tone for some art supplies you’d ordered weeks ago for Arthur. You asked him to hold onto them. 

“Of course,” the clerk says. “I have it right here.” 

He goes to the back of his shop and comes out with a small brown package. You thank him and take it, telling Arthur that you can leave the shop. 

“What is that?” he asks curiously. 

“Oh, just some new boots. I didn’t like any of the ones they had in there, so I asked the clerk and he had some that had just been sent in. Even said they were my size!” 

He nods his head and mounts up. You can tell he’s preparing to head back to camp, but you stop him. 

“Let’s take a ride. Come on, I know right where to go.” 

You lead him on a beautiful ride to the small cabin. “I wonder if something’s in there,” you say and head over to the cabin. Arthur follows you, but when you open the door and he sees how you’ve decorated it with flowers of Arthur’s favorite color, his eyes widen. 

“Did you do this?” he says. 

“What do you think, Arthur?” you giggle, hugging him from behind. His hands wrap over yours and he turns around to hug you back. “Why’d you go to all this trouble, sweetheart?” 

“Because you deserve it, Arthur. Now we can stay here all day if you want, or we can go wherever you’d like. I’m gonna make you a good dinner too.” 

“Hmm, you’re just spoilin’ me, sweetie.” 

“No I’m not. Honestly you should be getting even more. And speaking of you getting things, this is for you.” 

You hand him the package you’d gotten from the store. He smiles and opens it. When he sees the colored pastels and a sketchbook with pencils designed for drawing, he pulls you into a tight hug and kisses you hard. “Thank ya, darlin’.” 

Over the course of the day, you tell Arthur that you can both do whatever he wants. He chooses to stay in and around the cabin, relaxing, trying his new art supplies. At one point, he asked you to join him for a nap under a tree near the river. He held you in his lap and slept. He was so adorable and you savored every moment of it. 

When the sun began to dip, you and Arthur had been fishing. You put your pole away and went inside (Arthur continued to fish). You started to cook dinner. Arthur had asked earlier if you could make fresh fish. Even though you’ve never been fond of eating fish, you obliged of course. You used some thyme and oregano to season it and then smoked it over a fire you built outside. You added some fresh picked vegetables you’d found growing nearby and then called Arthur in to eat. 

Arthur loved the meal. He sighed in happiness when he took his last bite. You still had another surprise for him to end his day. He sat down in front of the fireplace, sipping a beer. You put the dishes into the sink and then came over to him. 

“So, on a scale of 1 to 10, how was this birthday?” 

He smiles and wraps an arm around your waist. “Hmm, I’d call it a 9.” 

“Only a 9, huh? Well, let me change that to a 10.” 

You bend down and kiss him on the lips, then your hands go to his shirt and you begin opening it. Your hands glide through his chest hair, causing him to groan. You kneel down in front of him and plant your hands on his knees. He smiles down at you and then you glide your hands up his thighs and meet on his bulge. He takes in a quick breath when you squeeze him gently. You massage him a bit and then unbutton his pants, reach in and stroke him. His legs spread a bit more. You pull out his hardening length. 

You study his cock for a moment, sliding your hand along his shaft. Looking up, you see his head’s tilted back, his cheeks pink. You’ve never done this before in your relationship with Arthur, but you lean down and take him into your mouth. He stiffens a bit and you look up to see him gazing down at you. 

“Oh God, darlin’,” he says. His cock grows firmer and you begin to lick his length, and then to bob. His hands wind into your hair and his hips snap a bit. You can tell he’s close, but just before he has a chance to release, you slip him out of your mouth. 

“Honey?” he says, his voice pleading. You grin and stand up, then you begin to strip slowly, giving him a full show. When you reveal your breasts, he glues his eyes onto them. As you finish removing the last bit of your clothing, you climb into his lap, straddling him. He wraps his arms around you and his lips crash to your nipple. Your hands wrap around his cock again and begin working him. 

You pump him harder and harder. His teeth grazes your stiff nipple and then he suddenly releases, his seed covering your stomach. 

“Shit!” he says when he lets go. You kiss him on the lips and his hands squeeze your hips. Without warning, he picks you up and slams you onto the bed. You smile up at him as he removes his clothes. 

When he’s naked, he plants himself between your legs. You expect him to shove his length into your soaked opening, but instead he slides a finger into your folds, making you yelp. 

“Arthur!” you groan as he starts to play with your clit. “Hon-honey, it’s your birthday. I should be pleasuring you.” 

He chuckles and bends down to kiss you, his fingers still stroking your nub. “Trust me, sweetheart, the best gift ya could give me is the knowledge that I can make you scream.” 

You moan under him. He starts kissing down your jaw, your neck, focuses on your breasts for a second, and then continues on down. He spreads your legs open and gazes at your swollen nub, glistening with your slick. He kisses your inner thigh and then dives into your slit. He starts sucking on you, making you begin to pant and groan. 

“Arthur!” you yelp again. “Oh God, Arthur!” He sucks and licks your clit, inserting two fingers to your opening. He begins thrusting and it doesn’t take long for you to tip over the edge. You grab the sheets under you, your hands clenching. He lets you go finally and stands up. 

Before you have the chance to recollect yourself, Arthur pushes his cock into you and leans down, his body settling onto yours. He starts kissing and sucking your neck, his hands stroking up and down your sides. His hips begin thrusting, his cock sliding in deeper. Your hands latch onto his back, holding on as he plows into you. 

After a moment, Arthur leans up, his hands planting on either side of you, and he begins to raw you. He bucks as hard as he can into you. If he wanted to split you open, he could, but he sure makes it feel good. You pant and whisper his name as he gets you closer to going over the edge again. His cock writhes inside you and then he suddenly shoots his seed deep inside you. 

“Arthur,” you whine. “I’m so close. So close.” 

He chuckles and keeps his length inserted, but he slides his hand back into your slit and begins stroking your clit again. You thrust your hips up, your breath coming in short bursts. You’re about to go, you can feel the end getting close. Arthur rubs you in just the right way and your back arches, your head tilting back into the bed. Your mouth opens into an o and your eyes close. 

As your orgasm completely takes you over, you grit your teeth. Arthur bends down and kisses your lips as it starts to ebb away. 

“Easy girl,” he says in a deep, rough voice. “I got ya.” 

You open your eyes and look at him. “Did I do good? Did this make your birthday better?” 

“It couldn’t have been more perfect, sweetheart,” he says. He kisses you again. “Thank ya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated!


	61. "I hate you"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: "I hate you" (from a list of writing prompts)

Arthur’s been in a strange mood for the past few days. He’s hardly been in camp, which is nothing new. This man is constantly running around, doing jobs for people in camp and finding treasures, hunting and trading animals, meeting new people. What’s weird about his recent behavior is that the times he’s been in camp, he’s avoided you. 

You and Arthur have been a couple for nearly a year and you’ve rarely fought. Arthur’s always been thoughtful and sweet, and he knows you better than anyone else. If he asked you to marry him, you’d say yes. A few days back, he’d been in camp and he’d just snipped at everything you seemed to do or say. It was almost like he wanted to start a fight. Worse was that he didn’t seem to want you close to him. You’ve never been an overly touchy person, but he’s the exception. That day, whenever you tried to hold his hand or touch his arm, he’d brush you off. 

Then later that night, he went into your shared tent and found your journal, which you’d left there and forgotten. It was lying open on a page where you’d drawn his face and a small entry that had nothing to do with him. Arthur picked it up and flipped through the pages and found that on almost every single one, he was mentioned or you’d drawn him.

When you came in to go to sleep, he jumped on you. He accused you of being obsessive, even on the edge of being creepy. He said some pretty bad things along with those and you just stood there, not defending yourself. It was a habit of yours from your childhood as your parents constantly yelled at you and if you argued back, they’d get meaner. So you just let Arthur be mad and say those things. You wiped away a tear before he saw and left the tent to sleep elsewhere. 

Were you creepy? Was your habit of focusing on Arthur unhealthy, even borderline stalker? You don’t know, you’ve never been in love before. Not like this anyways. He saved your life a few months before you started dating, there’s no doubt about that. 

Your parents had died a long time ago and they left you in the care of your mother’s sister. She was more of a proper mother than yours ever was and she raised you properly, teaching you how to take care of yourself. She was your best friend too. But then she got sick and within days was dead. In your grief, you left her home and just wandered, searching for purpose. Sunk in your grief and depression, Hosea found you and brought you to his gang, but it was Arthur who helped you go through your grief. He was the one who took interest in you, who you told about your past, and it was he who helped you go through the motions of grief and he was always the one there to help you stand when you didn’t have the strength. There’s no doubt in your mind that without his help, you would have killed yourself. Arthur saved you. 

You never saw your habits of drawing him or talking about him in your journal was unhealthy. Sure, you stuck to him more than the others, but he was your boyfriend, isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? You’d thought your relationship was strong, healthy, but Arthur pointed out the obvious flaws that night. You still remember the way he threw your journal on the ground. 

Over the past couple of days since the fight, Arthur’s hardly been around and he’s avoided you like the plague. You’ve come to a particularly painful decision; it’s time to end the relationship. Arthur clearly wants nothing to do with it, or you for that matter. He strolls in on his big horse and you call him over. You see him roll his eyes a bit and take in a deep breath, but he walks over. 

“What is it?” he says in a cold voice, his hands on his gunbelt. 

“We need to talk, Arthur. Alone.” You walk off into the trees, listening to him follow. When you’re near the river’s edge beneath Horseshoe Overlook, you stop and turn. Your chest is tight and there’s a big lump in your throat. You don’t talk for a while. 

“You gonna say somethin’ or am I free to let my mind wander?” Arthur snaps after waiting a few moments. 

You sigh again. “Sorry. I’m just… trying to decide how to do this.” You bite your lip and then speak up. “Arthur, I think it’s best we stop seeing each other.” 

“Well that ain’t possible, the camp ain’t that big.” 

“You know what I mean, Arthur. I clearly creep you out and I… I don’t want to be with you anymore,” you lie. 

Arthur lowers his brow and looks at you hard. “Fine. That’s just fine.” 

He stalks back up the hill before you have a chance to say anything further. You sink down on a rock and cry. Time passes and when you’re ready to rejoin camp, it’s well into the afternoon. 

The next few days are particularly difficult. Arthur comes around camp more often now that you’re not dating, but whenever you’re in ear shot, you swear you hear him make some kind of snide remark. He doesn’t bother to hide the fact that you broke up, but he doesn’t go boasting about it either. At least he has the decency to do that. Whenever he goes to greet the girls and make sure they’re doing fine, he pointedly ignores you. 

Four days of this go by and you’re not sure how much longer you can take it. You feel yourself sinking into that familiar pit that Arthur helped you climb out of. 

One afternoon, you’re standing at Pearson’s wagon, making the last parts of tonight’s stew. Arthur walks past without throwing you a glance, but then Abigail walks up to him. 

“How you doin’, Arthur? I hear you went and saw that Mary again.” 

Arthur just chuckles and hides his eyes beneath his hat, a faint blush on his cheeks. “Yes, but I just helped her with a favor.” 

“I always did like her,” Abigail says. You know she’d never say this in front of you, but she clearly hasn’t noticed you. “You two sweet on each other again? Sure it’d be a change for you.” 

Arthur huffs a bit. “Nah, like I said, just helpin’ her with a favor.” He peaks over Abigail’s shoulder and spots you. “Was nice bein’ with a woman who at least pretended like I wasn’t the center of her world.” 

You wince at the remark as it was clearly intended for you. Your eyes begin to tear up and you hear Abigail say something, but you don’t hear what she says over the roaring in your ears. “I hate you, Arthur Morgan,” you mutter under your breath. 

Feeling hurt and betrayed, you slam down the corn you’d been stripping of its hair and stalk off over to the horses. Without looking back at him, you mount up on your horse and gallop out of camp. You hear someone calling your name, but you ignore it. You’re glad that you always keep your tent, bedroll, guns and extra clothes in your saddlebag. You’re leaving the Van der Linde gang and you’re not coming back. You can’t come back. 

*********************************

Right after Arthur made the remark about Mary not being “obsessed” with him, he felt incredibly guilty, especially when he saw your face. How your entire face went red and your eyes grew shiny with moisture and your lip trembled. He knew he’d taken things too far, but then you got off on your horse and ran off. He’d called your name but you ignored him. 

Arthur puts his hands on his hips and sighs. He’s really messed up now, he knows it. He shouldn’t have been so hard on you, but he was devastated when you’d broken things off with him. When you said you didn’t want to be with him anymore, it broke his heart but he wasn’t going to force you to do anything you didn’t want to do. 

It was true, Arthur had found it strange and a little unsettling how he seemed to be your entire world. When he’d flipped through your journal, he hadn’t really bothered to read the passages. He’d just seen his name scribbled among them and seen your sketches of his face, his body. If he’d read it, he would have found them filled with emotion, gratitude and love. He’d gotten angry with you because he was worn out, exhausted from how much he’d been sent off on jobs. Then he’d gotten that damn letter from Mary and his mind went into a confusing whirlwind of emotions, with memories of both you and Mary tumbling around. 

Arthur did love you more than Mary, but she had some kind of mysterious hold on him. She always had and he hated it, especially since she knew it and played him better than anyone else could. You never once accused him of being a horrible man, never asked him to change, never looked down on him. He felt better when he was around you, like he was worthy of gaining redemption for his bad choices. Mary only told him how she should have hung him years ago. 

Arthur rubs his jaw, staring off into the trees where you’d run off. He’d heard you mutter that you hated him and he doesn’t blame you. He knows he’s taken things too far since you broke up and he has a feeling you didn’t do it because you wanted to, but because you were under the impression it was what he wanted. He also remembers the horrible things he’d said to you in the tent that night, how you’d just stood there. You must have believed those things, why else wouldn’t you try to contradict him? 

Hosea walks up to him and claps a hand on his shoulder. “Son, think you got a little out of hand with her,” he says. 

“No doubt,” Arthur says. “But maybe it’s for the best, Hosea. After all, she was a little…. Don’t you think she was a little too obsessed with me?” 

Hosea gives him a curious look. “No, I don’t think that at all.” 

“Well, you didn’t see her journal. I was on almost every page of that thing.” 

Hosea smiles. “And how many pages of your journal does she occupy? I dare you to count them, Arthur. You might be surprised. There’s a fine line between being obsessed and being in love.” 

Arthur just huffs and walks off to his tent. Hosea’s got him thinking: how much of his journal are you in? He pulls it out and flips through it. Sure enough, you’re mentioned or sketched on a large portion of the pages. In fact, most of them have you. Arthur’s heart sinks further and then he looks up at the table where he keeps a picture of you next to the photo of his mother. Lying next to it is your journal. You never picked it up after he threw it on the ground, too afraid to come back to the tent to collect it. 

He grabs it and flips through it again. He takes the time to read the passages and most of the ones he’s mentioned is you stating the things he’s taken you to see or do, how grateful you are he helped you to live so you could experience life. He realizes your behavior is not obsession, but love and adoration. 

When he gets to the last page in your journal that you wrote in, he comes to the conclusion that it’s a good thing you dumped him. After all, he’s not worthy of you.

***********************************

Two weeks have passed since you left camp. You’ve made no plans or intentions to ever go back, not when you know Arthur will be there. You’ve set up a small, make-shift camp in Big Valley, a place Arthur showed you months ago. It’s been one of your favorite places ever since and the sunrises and sunsets are out of this world. Game and wild herbs are plentiful, the stream provides more than enough water to support you. This is the perfect place. You’ll stay here for a long time. 

Of the gang, you’ve heard nothing, to which you’re grateful. Most of them were your friends and you didn’t take the time to say good-bye. Arthur had hurt you so badly, you couldn’t stay any longer. You still think about him everyday. How could you not? You were intending to be with him your entire life, even if you never got married. You just wish things hadn’t ended so badly, all your memories of him are tainted by it. Sometimes, you wish you’d never fallen in love with him. It would make things easier. 

It’s late afternoon and you’re out hunting. A large herd of pronghorns graze peacefully near a large dead tree on the banks of the shallow stream. You take down a buck easily, but you feel another pang that if it weren’t for Arthur, you’d be starving right about now. He was the one who taught you how to hunt and butcher. You skin the pronghorn and take as much meat as you can carry, then you go back to your little camp. When you get there, you’re forced to a stop. Someone’s in your camp. 

You recognize Arthur’s form too easily and your heart begins to pound in your chest. What has he come here for? Has Dutch sent him to hunt you down and drag you back to camp? No, Dutch always said no one was forced to stay with the gang, it’s not a prison camp. Then is Arthur here to start another fight? Is he going to try and kill you? You don’t like to think he intends to, but the thought still crosses your mind. 

You stand there and stare at his back for a long time. He’s sitting at the fire, clearly waiting for you. He must feel your presence because he finally turns around and looks at you. He sighs, looking a little relieved. He stands up and turns his body to face you. 

“Hey sweetheart. Don’t be nervous, I ain’t here to hurt ya.” He puts his arms up as if he’s surrendering. 

You’re in a defensive stance, your eyes don’t blink as they flit over his form. “What do you want, Arthur?” you say quietly. 

“I just wanted to come and apologize. I’ve always been a fool, but lately I’ve been a complete ass.” 

You breathe out hard, almost as though you’re skeptical. “Why would you apologize to me, Arthur? I’m your stalker, remember? I give you the creeps.” 

He looks down. “I’m so sorry, darlin’. I should never have said those things. They aren’t true, never have been. I just… saw your journal, but didn’t bother to really look at it and I jumped to conclusions. Hosea gave me some hard truths and I’ve realized you ain’t ever been what I accused you of. You’re… you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

He looks up again and his eyes are glittering. “Darlin’, I ain’t here to try and convince you to take me back. Hell, don’t! I don’t deserve ya. But I made ya feel like you weren’t welcome anymore and that’s not fair. I just wanted to let you know you still have a home with the gang. I won’t get in the way of that.” 

You haven’t relaxed your stance. He sighs again. “Well, I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry. I… I hope you’ll come home. Not for me, but for everyone else. They all miss you. Especially Mary-Beth and Jack. They’ve missed your funny stories.” 

Arthur heads over to his horse and mounts up. Without another word, he rides off. When you’re sure he’s gone, you creep over to your camp. Nothing has been moved or taken, in fact you see a folded piece of paper on your bedroll. Opening it, you see a sketch of you. You recognize Arthur’s work. At the bottom of the page, you see in his loopy writing, the words “I love Y/N”. A ball forms in your throat again, but you’re not really sure how to respond from here. 

*******************************

Two days later, you finally pack up your camp and head back to Horseshoe Overlook. When you return, you’re welcomed with open arms and happy smiles. Hosea pats your shoulder, stating it’s good to have you back. Pearson’s ecstatic when you give him all the pelts and meat you’ve collected during your trip. Jack runs over, asking if you saw any unicorns (your last story had been about a princess who met a unicorn in a forest). 

The last person who comes to greet you is Arthur. When you both lock eyes, everyone turns away and goes back to their own tasks, knowing you both need your privacy. Arthur wears a small, shy smile and he walks over to you. 

“I’m glad you came home, Y/N.” He shuffles his feet a little, wanting to say a thousand things to you. However, he doesn’t want to pressure you to take him back, knowing it’s not fair to you. “Well, let me know if you need anything.” He tips his hat and starts walking away. 

Before he gets far, you grab his hand, spin him around to face you and bury your head into his chest. His chest clenches hard, but he folds his arms around you. He feels the moisture from your eyes seeping into his shirt, but he doesn’t care. He kisses the top of your head and squeezes you. 

“I love ya,” he whispers in your ear. 

You look up at him, your eyes red and puffy, fresh tracks running down your cheeks. “I love you, Arthur Morgan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly welcomed!


	62. Poor John Marston!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Imagine if fem!reader put smth sexy on for Arthur before he gets home from work as a surprise, she's fidgeting on the bed trying to find a good pose when the door opens and it's John saying like "hey Arthur here's the thing I borrow-" and they kinda just stare at each other in shock before John leaves with a "you know what I'll just come back some other time". Does he run into Arthur on his way out? Maybe. Do reader and Arthur still get it on? Hell yeah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: swearing, light smut (not as descriptive as previous chapters).

Thank God for two-day delivery. You ordered this thing two days ago and have been antsy to try it on for Arthur ever since. Your bedroom life isn’t stale and you two fuck at least three times a week, but sometimes you just need something to spice it up. 

You open the package, which contains another box, a periwinkle blue with the curvy logo of the company. You open that box and there’s a paper promising customer satisfaction, full refunds for a month, blah blah blah. You push it aside and lift up the tissue paper to reveal the sensual garment you’d ordered. 

Pulling it up, you feel worried. It looks like it might be too small for you. After ripping open the clear package, you hold the piece up. Then you look at the clock. Arthur will be getting off of work and he’ll be home in about half an hour. That gives you just the right time to try this thing on and discard it if it doesn’t look good. 

You strip out of your clothes and then inspect the piece again. Biting your lip, you slip it on over your legs and begin pulling it up over your body. The piece, which looks like a corset, stretches surprisingly well and slides over your skin. You pull it up to the proper length, to where it just barely covers your nipples, and then look down to see where it stops at your legs. There is no crotch to it, so you’re a little worried it might look like you’re wearing a kid’s dress. Luckily, it stops right at the line of your buttcheeks. 

You step in front of the mirror, afraid it might look completely ridiculous. It looked hot as hell online, but of course that was on a model. You’re just an average person, not exactly model material and this thing can’t be photoshopped on your body. You look at your reflection and are pleased to see that it actually extenuates your figure while still enunciating your curves. 

You look at the clock. Ten minutes to go. Have you really spent that much time fidgeting with this thing? Whatever, doesn’t matter. Now you have to find a sexy pose, you want it to be a surprise for Arthur. You sit on the bed, wondering if you should do a pinup pose. You try one, but you feel completely ridiculous. You try a different one with the same affect. 

You go through a multitude of poses, each feeling more silly or more uncomfortable than the last. Honestly, the amount of back arching you’ve done is starting to hurt. Just now, you hear the door downstairs open. Arthur’s home. Shit, you still haven’t found a pose. As soon as he takes off his shoes, he’ll be coming up here to change out of his work clothes. You suddenly wonder if you’re underdressed in this thing. You should have put on fishnet stockings or put on makeup or styled your hair or something. God, you are such an idiot! 

You’re still fighting around with poses when you hear him coming up the stairs. Why did he leave his shoes on? Maybe he’s planning on mowing the lawn or something. You quickly pick a random pose on the edge of the bed, even though it kind of hurts your back. You throw your shoulders back, supporting your upper half on your arms as you lean slightly back, throw out your chest and spread your legs a little so that he can get just a hint of the fact that nothing’s covering you down below.

The doorknob begins to turn. You shift your shoulders slightly, they’re starting to hurt. And then you hear a voice you did not expect. 

“I’m just gonna grab it quick.” Fuck! It’s Arthur’s brother (he’s adopted but still family), John Marston. What the hell is he doing here? 

You start coming out of your pose but are not fast enough. John starts walking in the room, his head turned back to call to Arthur, and then he turns his head and your eyes meet. 

John’s face immediately goes white and you watch his eyes quickly go over your body before he claps his hand over his eyes. Your face is burning up so bad you might as well be a miniature sun and you try to grab the comforter off the bed to cover yourself. You’re sitting on it though and it refuses to stretch up enough to do the job. 

“Sorry!” John hisses. He quickly shuts the door and starts heading down the hall, his eyes burning. He wishes he could scrub them with soap. He doesn’t think you’re unattractive, but you’re Arthur’s girlfriend! He would never want to look at you that way! 

He rubs his eyes and immediately crashes into a big, fleshy barrier. 

“Didn’t ya find it?” Arthur asks, addressing John’s clearly empty hands. 

“You know, Arthur, I think I’ll grab it a different time. Y/N’s in there and she… I think she wants to talk to you.” 

“You a’right? Ya look like ya seen a ghost, boah.” 

John just puts his hands up, shakes his head and walks around Arthur. “Like I said, I don’t need it right now, I’ll grab it some other time. Just go talk with Y/N, think she’s got a bone to pick with you.” 

John leaves the house, leaving Arthur quite confused. Are you pissed? He heard you yell out but couldn’t make out any words. Honestly you sounded more scared than mad. But maybe you’re ticked off about something. Arthur sighs and begins heading down to the bedroom. He starts wondering what he did to make you mad, but he honestly can’t think of anything. 

“Did I leave the bedroom light on again before I left?” he thinks aloud. “Did I forget to turn on the dishwasher? Leave up the toilet seat? What, woman, what did I do this time?” 

He opens the door, resolved for an inevitable scolding, and sees you sitting on the edge of the bed, your face in your hands. He immediately notices the tiny piece slipped over your body. 

“What? What’s goin’ on?” he asks. 

You look up, your face still burning. “Oh my God, Arthur! I am so sorry!” You start giggling. “I think I just gave John the scare of his life!” 

Things click into place and Arthur raises his eyebrow. “Oh dear,” he says, then he begins laughing too. You both laugh yourselves out before Arthur says he’ll text John and explain you’d no idea he was going to be here. 

“Good. I meant for this to be a surprise!” you say, gesturing to your covering. 

Arthur smiles and puts his hand on his hip. “Well, I am surprised to see it. What’s this for?” 

“Well, what do you think, Arthur?” 

“Let me see it,” he says. 

You smile and relax your body, flipping what little of the comforter you used to cover yourself. You take on a pose, thrusting out your chest and spreading your legs. You shaved your undercarriage earlier, so he can get a full view of everything. 

“Damn, girl,” he says. You look up at him and see where he’s staring. It makes you blush. “Seriously though, why’d you even put this thing on? You could have sat like this butt-naked and I’d be happy.” 

“Aren’t you glad I didn’t? Otherwise John would have seen everything.” You enunciate the word. “Besides, this is supposed to be for teasing you, making you excited. Like a present.” 

“Well it’s certainly doin’ that. And I’m glad that if John had to see you like this, he didn’t get a full view.” 

You giggle and gesture him forward with a finger. He smiles and walks over, stripping out of his clothes as he does so. He’s already half hard by the time he gets to you. 

“You know, I think I actually like this thing,” he says, sliding his hands over your hips as you lay down for him. “You look sexy as hell in this.” 

He bends down and kisses you, then his hands go to the top of the piece and he pulls down, popping your nipples out so he can play with them. Then his hand glides down and starts playing between your folds, making you groan into his mouth. 

“I’m definitely sold on this,” he says. He starts kissing down your body, his lips gliding over the black material and then he kneels down by the bed, staring up into your slit. He kisses your inner thigh and grabs your knees, spreading them even more. 

“A’right, darlin’. You say this is to make you like a present. I’m ready to see what’s inside.” 

You tremble under him as he goes to work, using his tongue to bring you to your edge. As you moan and writhe under him, his mouth working wonders, you definitely feel this piece was worth every penny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly welcomed!


	63. "Can I touch you?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: "Can I touch you?" with Arthur and chubby female reader.

You stand on the edge of camp, not wanting to be around anyone else. You’d been out riding your horse alone earlier today. You’re used to riding alone, even capable of taking care of yourself. You and the others are all like that. It’s one of the requirements of running with the Van der Linde gang. Living the outlaw life comes with a lot of risks. Today, you faced one of them. 

You’d been riding back to the gang, your horse’s back draped in pelts and your satchel heavy with stolen goods, including a fancy watch you’d found in an empty cabin. On your way back to Horseshoe Overlook, you’d been stopped by four other riders. They tried to rob you, but seemed rather new to the whole process as they weren’t frightening at all. 

The leader of the four demanded you surrender your goods. “Fellas, you don’t wanna rob me. Trust me, nothing good will come of that. If you value your lives, you’ll let me be.” 

“What threat could you be to us, you fat pig!” one of them hollered back. 

The insult stung, of course. You’ve always been self-conscious about your weight, but you tried to pretend like it didn’t bother you. “I’m not going to warn you fellas again. Turn around and let me pass.” 

“We got four guns on you, you goddamn whale!” he yelled again. “You’d be smart to just give us what ya got, you’re much more likely to survive.” 

“Fine,” you sighed and put your arms up. The man came over to ruffle through your pockets. Just as he reached towards you, you grabbed him, wrapped an arm around his neck and squeezed. You then planted his back to your front and pulled out your revolver. 

“Back off, assholes!” you scream at the other three who point their guns at you. The man in your grasp claws at your arm, trying to relieve the pressure around his neck. “Put your damn guns away and leave, otherwise your buddy’s gonna get a bullet in his brain!” 

The other three trade frightened glances. “Shit, she ain’t worth this,” one of them says. He holsters his gun and runs off, followed by the other two. The man in your arm is gurgling, his face turning purple. When his friends are out of sight, you release him and shove him down into the dirt. 

“I ever see you again, I won’t hesitate to slit your throat!” you growl at him as he gasps for breath. You mount up and ride off, not looking back. 

The attempted robbery hadn’t shaken you up, and you’re not quite sure why the man’s comments about your weight bothered you so much. You went to Valentine afterwards to get a drink to simmer down, but when you were in the saloon, you felt like everyone was staring at you, judging your weight. You got a single shot of whiskey and then went back to camp. 

You’re at the cliff overlooking the river below, wanting to be alone. Of course, you know the others in camp don’t judge you for your weight. They’ve got bigger problems to worry about and it’s not like you don’t do your share of work. You always have. In fact, you’ve tried to lose weight. You certainly live an active enough life to lose it, but you just can’t seem to get rid of it. 

As you stand here, you don’t notice Arthur coming up from behind. He’s been your best friend for many years and the only reason he hadn’t been on the ride with you this morning was because he was hunting some bison with Charles. He’s one of the few people you trust with your deepest secrets as you’re secretly in love with him. You’ve been in love with him for a long time but have refused to let him know in order to protect your friendship. 

“There she is,” he says in his way of greeting you. 

You turn and smile at him. “Hi, Arthur. How was your hunt?” 

Arthur tells you about the poached bison and how he and Charles found the hunters. Charles killed one of them but Arthur let the other one go to spread the word that to poach bison and frame their work on the natives would result in their deaths. 

“Well, I’m glad you let him off easy,” you say with a soft smile. 

“It weren’t an easy decision. Charles wanted me to kill him and I kinda wanted to. I might be a bad man but at least I ain’t takin’ money to frame the Indians.” 

You smile again and then look back out to the river. You’re still not really in the mood to be around people, not even Arthur. He shuffles his feet for a moment. 

“You doin’ a’right? Ya seem a little down.” 

“I’m fine, Arthur. Don’t worry about me.” 

He sighs. “Ya know ya can tell me anythin’, right?” 

You look up at him. You feel silly for how you’re feeling about the whole thing. Why the hell should you care what some asshole who tried to rob you? 

“It’s nothing. Just somethin’ stupid.” 

He tilts his head a little. “Stupid or not, will you tell me?” 

You sigh and nod. Maybe it will be nice to have someone else’s input. You tell him about the attempted robbery and the rude things the man said. You also tell him how you sent the men running off with their tails between their legs. 

“I don’t know why it’s bothering me,” you say, not omitting the things the guy said. “It shouldn’t, he was obviously trying to scare me.” 

He sighs. “He was, and sounds like you certainly gave him the scare of his life. I imagine he won’t be keen to try robbin’ anyone anytime soon.” 

You smile a bit but you still feel down. “I don’t know why I care so much, Arthur,” you finally admit. “I mean, I know I never been pretty or even decent enough looking for people to want me around. I… I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.” 

Arthur looks at you, his eyes soft. “I think you’re pretty,” he says. 

Your stomach clenches tightly. “Arthur, you don’t have to lie.” 

“I ain’t lyin’. Can… can I touch ya, darlin’?” 

He’s called you “darlin’” on a few occasions, mostly during tender moments like this when you’ve needed a boost. It always gives you butterflies when he does. Not only that, he’s never asked to touch you before. You’re not the most touchy person, in fact you’re more averted to it. However, you know he’s touch-starved but is good at hiding it. 

“Why do you want to touch me, Arthur?” you ask softly, not able to look at him. 

“Because it sounds like ya need it. Here.” He holds out his arms and approaches you slowly. You let him come close and then go into his arms; he folds them around you. It’s a bit awkward at first as you’re not used to being held, but after a moment you start to relax. You press your face into his chest and his left hand starts rubbing your back while his right holds your head to him. He’s warm and he smells good, smells like home. You hear his heart pounding in your ear. 

“Yeah, you’re okay, sweetheart,” he says softly in your ear. 

You look up at him and he smiles at you and then places the softest kiss on our head, making your chest swell. 

“Arthur?” you say so softly you almost don’t hear yourself. 

He smiles and leans down, pressing his lips to yours. After a few seconds, he leans back. “Sorry, darlin’. I… I been wantin’ to do that for years.” 

“Really? Arthur, I’ve… I’ve had a crush on you for years!” 

He chuckles. “Me too.” He leans down and kisses you again. 

“About time you both finally admitted how you feel about each other!” Sean laughs, coming over to you both. You and Arthur break apart, your faces red. Sean stands between the two of you and drapes an arm over your shoulders. 

“I cannot tell ya, if I had to hear ol’ Morgan say how much he wanted ya t’know how he felt, I was gonna shoot meself!” Sean says with a laugh. 

“Maybe ya should go ahead and do that anyways, save us all the trouble!” Arthur growls. 

Sean laughs, joining the onlooking crowd. You put your hand over your eyes, but you’re laughing too. You take Arthur’s hand and pull him down close. 

“What say you we go somewhere else and try that kiss again?” you ask. 

He squeezes your hand and then leads you off. You giggle again as he takes you, looking forward to kissing him. You don’t even care that you might get carried away and end up having sex with him. You certainly won’t end up regretting it. In fact, that’s exactly what happens. 

However a month after you and Arthur finally got together, you make a life-changing discovery. It terrifies and excites you. That night, you pull Arthur into the tent you now share with him, telling him you have important news. He looks worried as he comes into the tent. 

“What is it? Is somethin’ wrong?” 

“No, at least I don’t think so.” You wring your hands for a moment, terrified of telling him. Finally, you swallow hard. “Arthur, I’m pregnant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated! It is soul food for a writer!


	64. "It's lonely here without you"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Reader finally breaks down and says this out loud, “ It’s lonely here without you. ” Arthur has finally return from being stranded in Garuma and surprises her.

You stand on the edge of the swamp in this miserable place named Lakay. You hate it here, even more than Shady Belle. Sure, that place had been in the swamp surrounded by gators and infested with mosquitos. The walls always emitted a moldy stink, but at least there’d been room for everyone. 

Lakay is even worse. It’s tiny, the few structures sit right on top of the swamp itself. Not only that, but there’s heavy evidence that this place had been recently occupied by the Night Folk. The skulls of their victims sit on spikes on the single path leading into Lakay. 

Beyond the physical ugliness of it is the general mood of the camp. Everyone is anxious, scared and distraught. When Charles had returned to Shady Belle the evening of the highly anticipated bank heist, he hadn’t hesitated to tell everyone what had happened. Hosea and Lenny were dead, John was in prison and all the others were on a boat headed to God knows where. 

When you and Sadie heard the news, you both jumped into action to get everyone to safety. Grimshaw and Pearson, who would have normally been the ones to get things moving, were in too much shock to do so. There were high fears that the Pinkertons, who had cornered Dutch and the others in Saint Denis, would be able to find the hideout, so it was clear that the gang had to be moved. You and Sadie barked out orders, urging everyone to get packing and to leave. 

While everyone got packing, you and Sadie discussed where to go. You couldn’t go back west and there was nowhere in the east or south. That was when Strauss told you about Lakay and how he’d heard rumor that the locals were terrified of it. Sadie told you to manage things and she took Charles up to it to clear it of the Night Folk. 

While they were gone, you and Grimshaw got things packed up. Abigail was a problem as she was worried about John. She wanted to bust him out of prison, but right now the gang couldn’t sacrifice the people to go rescue him and things were far too hot to risk it. Besides, there was no word on if he was going to be executed or not. Most likely, the prison would hold onto him until a trial could be held. 

Finally, in the morning after the bank heist, you, Grimshaw and Pearson got the gang moved. It had been Pearson’s idea to leave a coded message in the manor in case Dutch, Arthur or the others came back looking. Hopes were not high that any of them would return however. It didn’t improve your mood. 

You’re worried about all of those that disappeared on the boat, but the one you’re most worried about is Arthur. You’ve been in a relationship with him for the past nine months and things were starting to get serious when he’d gone with the others to rob the bank. Your relationship had been to the point where you’d started thinking you might spend the rest of your life with him. Now he’s gone, lost at sea or stuck on an island or perhaps even another continent entirely. No one knows where he and the others are. 

As the gang tried to settle around Lakay, unpacking and arranging as much as they could in the tiny town, you tried keeping morale up. Working on unpacking and arranging made it easy for you to bury your fears, worries and pain, but when it was done, they were the only things you had left to occupy yourself. 

That first night in Lakay was extremely difficult. You set up yours and Arthur’s spot at the back of the largest building, though it still felt like you were on top of the other girls and Jack. You weren’t used to having a sleeping spot alone, having shared one with Arthur for months. It was an alien feeling and you spent several hours lying awake, listening to the groans of alligators and the singing of frogs. 

It’s been nearly a month since the bank heist and there’s still no word of Dutch, Arthur or the others. Sadie and Mary-Beth did some investigating in the area and found out the boat they’d snuck on had been headed south to the Caribbean, but there’d been no word on if the boat ever arrived at its destination. Of course, communication with ships was spotty at best, so if there’d been any problems with it during its voyage, there wouldn’t be word for another few weeks. 

You’ve spent nearly every day the same way. In the morning, you help Pearson set out coffee and a simple breakfast, usually consisting of bird or alligator eggs, then you spend the remainder of the morning doing chores and trying to keep spirits up, but it’s hard when yours are so low. By early afternoon, you’re able to slip away from camp in order to go hunting. You often bring back eggs and sometimes even crawfish. 

You hate hunting in the swamps. It’s not only because you know you’re not the top of the foodchain out here. The swamps hold a certain ugliness you can’t get past. Everything seems to hold a layer of slime on it, and the smell of stagnant water permeates into the air. You miss the rich green forests in the west, the blue mountains, the yellow plains and orange deserts. Sure, out there you’re just as likely to be hunted by bears, wolves or mountain lions, but they’re the devils you know. Alligators are a whole new beast. 

When you’re in camp, you try to appear busy and determined, but inside all you want to do is crawl into your bedroll and sink into the floor. You were devastated by the news of Hosea and Lenny, both shot down by Pinkertons. Charles told you how Arthur stayed with Lenny until he was dead, but how Hosea had been shot in the street in front of everyone. He was like a father to you. He was the one who saw your potential first all those years ago and convinced Dutch to keep you, teach you how to be an outlaw. 

The deaths aren’t the only things making you miserable. You’re scared for Arthur, terrified that he might very well be dead. You hate not knowing what’s happened to him. You’d rather know he was dead than to be left guessing because then you’d at least know what to do. 

You miss the way he held you at night, his voice, his body. The way you two synchronize during a hunt, bringing down the best and largest prey. Camp never wanted for meat when you two worked together. You miss the nights under the stars, swimming with him in the lake. The things you’d talk about. Arthur was the only one you could tell anything to without fear of judgement, knowing he’d want to hear whatever you had to say. It was the same for him. You loved the days he’d come, shaken up by a shootout or when Sean died and he’d laid his head on your shoulder and cried. You’ve never trusted or loved anyone as much as you do with Arthur. 

You sit now at the edge of the swamp. It’s morning, and you wish you could see the sky. Even though it’s a clear day, you can never seem to see the blue of it in the swamp. It’s always so muggy. Normally you’d be in camp, helping get the chores started and talking to the other girls, but you just can’t do it this morning. There have been days since the bank heist that you just miss Arthur more than the others and today seems to be one of them. You also just can no longer bear hiding the fact that you’re heartbroken. It seems that the only thing you see in camp is everyone’s worried eyes and they all beg for answers which you can’t provide. You just can’t do it anymore. 

The rock which you’re sitting on at the base of a slimy tree is starting to hurt beneath you, but you ignore it. You stare off into the shallow, mucky lake, aware that a gator could be inches from the shore, perfectly hidden by the murky water. You don’t really care though. Right now, it seems like nothing will ever get better. 

Things wouldn’t be so hard for you, you feel, if someone, anyone, would ask how you’re coping with all this. It wasn’t like your relationship with Arthur was a secret. Hell, he danced with you in the open when Jack was brought back, pulled you into his lap multiple nights when he played poker. Even kissed you in sight of the others. They all know you two were involved. You just feel like it would be a relief if someone asked you how you’re doing instead of you always making sure they were doing fine. You feel like because everyone’s depending on you and Sadie to keep things together, you can’t show even a moment of weakness. 

As you sit near the lake, you feel a sudden surge of anger. You’re angry at the Pinkertons, who destroyed everything and chased your family into the sea. You’re angry at the gang, they seem to need to be told what to do by you and Sadie. It puts a lot of pressure on your shoulders. You’re angry with the Night Folk, for leaving such an ugly place for you to live in, angry with the gators, the mosquitos. Everything. 

You pick up a rock and throw it as hard as you can, watching as it splashes into the lake several yards away. Nothing comes of the movement, not even a gator to inspect the splash. You feel like it’s a perfect example of your life. Even if you went into camp and screamed yourself hoarse about how mad you are, nothing would change. They’d all still expect you to bring back meat, to keep them functioning. No one would offer or even care to help you out. 

You know you should go back soon. You’ve got a basket full of crawfish that Pearson would absolutely love and a sack of berries. You just can’t do it though. Not today. You’re so tired. Besides, you wouldn’t have any improvements on company there. There’s just as many gators there as there are here. At least you can’t hear any arguing out here. 

A tear slips down your cheek. Things have never seemed so low before. You clasp your hands together and put them to your lips, staring off across the water. A ball forms in your throat and your chest tightens. All you can think about is Arthur and how he’d have ideas, how he’d be able to help lift this weight from your shoulders. You wouldn’t want him to take all of it, of course. He does that enough already. But he would help. Not only that, he’s been your center for so long, and now he’s gone. 

“It’s lonely here without you,” you say aloud, wishing that somehow, someway, he could hear you. If he’s alive, you’ve no doubt he misses you too. 

Something rustles in a bush behind your tree, but you ignore it. It’s probably just a bird or a wild pig. Then you hear footsteps. Your stomach drops further, knowing it’s someone coming to try and convince you to come back to camp and pretend to be fine. You drop your head to your knees, you just can’t take it today. Then you hear a voice you’ve been desperate to hear again. 

“I’ve been lonely too, darlin’.” 

You look up, your cheeks wet, and your eyes land on Arthur. Your breath leaves your body in a harsh burst. It feels like you’ve been holding your breath ever since you found out he was missing. 

“Arthur!” you say in a rough whisper. He smiles at you behind his thick beard, his face is heavily sunburnt and his shirt is semi-transparent from the sweat, rubbed with dirt and torn in a few places. He looks like he’s been through hell. 

You stand up and run the few feet over to him, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. He grips you tight and buries his face into your hair as you sob into his chest. All the emotions you’ve been bottling up over the past weeks come rushing out, ripping through your chest and throat. You look up and gently cup his cheek, trying not to irritate his burnt skin. He smiles and leans down to kiss you. 

“God, darlin’, I can’t tell ya how much I’ve missed you.” 

You press your forehead to his. “Me too. But thank God you’re alive! I thought you might be…”   
He slides a hand gently around your neck, his thumb tracing your jawline. “I’m okay, sweetheart. A little rougher for wear, but I’m a’right.” 

He tells you that he’s just returned and how he looked for you in camp. When he couldn’t find you, he was worried that perhaps you’d done something drastic in the light of the failed bank robbery and gotten yourself killed or arrested. He was relieved when Grimshaw said you were out hunting in the swamps and he’d come to find you. 

You don’t know how long you both stand there, just holding each other. You’re reluctant to leave his grasp. He’s your pillar to lean on once more. You nuzzle into his chest, his heart pumping in your ears and his lungs sounding strong. You place a soft kiss over his heart and he tightens his arms. 

In Arthur’s mind, there isn’t a better way you could have welcomed him home. When the boat sank, he’d been terrified and the last thing he saw was your eyes. Then he woke up on Guarma and suffered through the horrors on the island, and he missed you more than he thought possible. Several nights, he felt like you were there, holding him tight. It had been a wonderful comfort to him. On the way back home, he knew he never wanted to lose you again, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. Even now as he holds you, he thinks of how to ask you to be with him forever. He’d ask right now, but it isn’t the time. He can tell you’ve had difficulties too. Grimshaw even admitted to him that she’s let you take on far too much, even though Sadie’s been doing just as much. 

He slides a finger under your chin and lifts your face to look up at him. He smiles and kisses you again, feeling your watery eyelashes brush his cheeks. Even in this smelly swamp, you still smell like you, like home. You feel familiar and steady in his arms, he never wants to let you go. But let you go he must. He unwraps his arms from around you, but takes your hand in his. 

“Come on, darlin’. We gotta go back. I imagine the others will be back any moment.” 

As you walk back to Lakay with him, you think that at least things are unlikely to get worse from here. You just hope that you’ve hit the bottom and that the only way to go is up from here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly welcomed and appreciated!


	65. "I read your diary"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: “ I read your diary. ” or rather journal, when he was sleeping or while he was taking a bath in a secluded area and left his satchel wide open for grabs.

Flat Iron Lake gleams orange and blue in the midday sun, flies collecting in swarms hover above the water, begging to be eaten by a hungry fish. You stand on the pier, pole in your hand, hoping to fool one of those fish to take your lure instead of a real insect. So far, you’re having good luck, despite the hot sun above. You know from experience that fishing at any time other than dawn and dusk is spotty, but the fish around this area of the lake seem to always be biting, which is lucky. It saves everyone from having to go far to get meat. 

You love fishing, always have. You’re not the biggest fan of the taste of fish, though you will eat it. You enjoy the act of catching them, though. Fishing forces time to slow down, allows you to just sit and enjoy the peace and quiet, and then there’s the chance that something exciting will happen. Not only that, but the scenery is beautiful. 

As you stand, waiting for something to grab your lure, you hear footsteps on the shore. You turn and see Arthur, his hands on his hips. He smiles at you a bit, but doesn’t say anything. You return it and then go back to watching your bait, feeling a bit self conscious. Although you’re the newest member of the gang, having only been with them a couple of months, you’ve quickly grown fond of Arthur. You like most people in camp (aside from Micah), but Arthur was the one you took to. He’s handsome, smart (though he denies it), funny, loyal and sweet. He thinks he’s nothing more than a big dumb brute capable of nothing but violence, but you’ve seen the side of him that proves him wrong. You saw him give Tilly a necklace a few days ago, he got a book for Jack, and you’ve seen him playing fetch with the newest member, a dog named Cain. You’ve also seen him many times sitting on his cot or at the base of a tree, scribbling away in his journal. 

You’ve wondered many times if Arthur feels anything for you too, but you’re too nervous to ask. You won’t ask the others if he’s mentioned you at all, afraid it’ll clue them in to your crush. You wish, more than anything, that you could get a glimpse in his journal. 

You glance behind you again and spot Arthur sitting at the base of a tree not too far from the pier. His journal’s in his lap and he seems to be writing, or maybe he’s drawing. You wonder if he’s any good. You’ve tried your own hand at drawing with little success. You can barely draw a stick figure. 

You go back to fishing, wishing you could at least gather the courage to go and talk to him. You’ve wanted nothing more than to do that. He helped teach you how to shoot a gun after you first joined, and how to shoot a bow. It was through him that you learned how to hunt and fish, and you overheard him a few days ago talking to Dutch about teaching you how to rob people. You just wish you could talk to him about anything that didn’t involve you learning how to pull your weight in the gang. It’s doubtful that he has any interest in you though, even in an innocent, friendly manner. You sigh, wishing things were different. 

An hour passes and you decide you’re done fishing. You have a decent collection of fish to give to Pearson, he’ll be happy at least. You collapse your pole and begin walking down the pier when you see Arthur, still sat at the foot of the tree, his hat tipped over his eyes. He seems to be sleeping, but next to him is his journal, lying open and just begging to be read. 

You approach him quietly. You really shouldn’t be trying to read his journal, it’d be an invasion of his privacy. Still, you can’t help but be curious. You get a bit closer, waiting for him to stir, but he doesn’t. You quietly set down your bucket of fish and kneel down, picking up his journal. You check on him again, but he still hasn’t moved. You can tell by his slow, heavy breathing that he’s out. 

The first thing you see when looking at the open page of his journal is a sketch. Undeniably, it’s you, fishing on the pier. The sketch extends across both pages. The drawing is beautiful, simple yet detailed. You had no idea he could draw this well. You flip to the previous page and see sketches of a horse (undeniably his own), a husky and a duck. The duck is really no more than an outline, but it’s endearing. The husky is incredibly detailed, its tongue dangling from its panting mouth. You love the detail of the fur, you can tell exactly what color it is based purely on how he’s shaded it. You flip to the next previous page and are startled by an extremely detailed drawing of your face. On the page next to it is a passage he’s written. You study the beautiful, looping words. His writing is gorgeous. You begin to read it. 

“Took Y/N out hunting today. She’s got a natural talent for it, considering she’s only been doing it a few months. If only things were simpler, life wasn’t such a mess, I might ask her to be my girl. Yet damn you, Mary! Y/N ain’t nothing like Mary. She’s sweet, she don’t hold people’s past over their heads or play games with ‘em. When I’m alone with her, I feel like the luckiest man and the biggest fool. If she’s smart, she’ll stay away from me.” 

Your stomach does a backflip. Has he really thought about asking you to be his girlfriend? No way, no way could Arthur, the Arthur Morgan, be interested in you! You’re just a simple girl who grew up on a farm until a few months back when it was burned to the ground, killing everyone inside. You were in the barn when it got destroyed by a group of drunk O’Driscolls. It was only a couple weeks after that you were brought in by Arthur, who found you begging on the trail in the middle of nowhere. 

You flip through more of his journal, reading about how he hopes never to get on Sadie Adler’s bad side (you agree with him), how he detests doing jobs for Strauss. You’re glad he never went to collect that debt from that Downes fellow a few weeks ago. You’d heard rumors he was incredibly sick and you passed that information onto Arthur, who decided it wasn’t worth the risk and just absolved the debt. Still though, he’s doing a few other collections. 

You go on to read about some of the people he’s met, including a blind man who seemed almost like a prophet, a photographer who seemed to be trying to get himself eaten by some wild animal, and a crazy woman touting about dinosaurs. So many of these entries are accompanied with drawing, each one detailed to the point you feel you could touch them. 

Every few pages, he seems to mention you, whether it’s just taking you out somewhere to teach you a new skill, or about how you’ve surprised him with one of your own visions of the world. One in particular stands out to you. It’s accompanied by a sketch of you just standing there, drinking a mug of coffee. The passage itself started off with him talking about one of his debt collections from a woman named Lily Millet. 

“This world is an ugly one, I see it everyday. I see it in the things I do to people, the way they look at me. But Y/N seems to see the beauty of it. Whenever I’m with her, she sees light and color where I would see only violence and horror. The more I’m with her, the more I see the beauty too. If I were smarter, I’d spare her the misfortune of my own company, yet I find hers euphoric. If I weren’t such a coward, I’d ask her on a proper outing. John keeps saying she’s sweet on me, but Marston wouldn’t know the first thing about women. How the hell he ended up having a kid with Abigail is beyond me.” 

You giggle at the last line and then your heart drops when you hear Arthur begin to stir. You quickly flip to the page it was on and throw it on the ground. Unfortunately, it lands a solid foot from where you picked it up and in a different position. You just hope he doesn’t remember those details as you stand up and take several feet back. 

He tilts his hat up, notices you trying to walk away in such a manner that screams you’re guilty of something. He looks down at his journal and notices right away that it’s been moved. He connects your guilty smile and knows instantly that you at least looked at the sketch. Before he can say anything to you, you dart off into the middle of camp to give your fish to Pearson and where he won’t confront you. 

During the rest of the day, you find any excuse you can to stay away from Arthur, positive he’s furious that you invaded his privacy like that. You’d be mad had it been you, and you’re sure he’d like nothing more than to tell you off. However, you often catch him staring at you, but not in anger or disappointment. His eyes say he’s curious, and he doesn’t seem to be pursuing you to get you alone, though he does try to approach you often. You always come up with an excuse or pick up a conversation with the closest person so he can’t confront you. 

After the sun’s set, your luck runs out. Arthur left a few hours ago and you figured he’d be gone the rest of the night. You decided it was safe to go stand at the shores of the lake and look at the stars. You didn’t even hear him approach until he was standing right next to you, a beer bottle in each hand. 

“So,” he said, making you jump. You flushed when you saw him standing so close to you, but then he handed you one of the bottles. You thanked him quietly and looked away. You didn’t see the soft smile he wore. “Enjoy readin’ my journal?” he asks, sipping his beer as he stares off across the lake. 

You sigh. “I’m sorry, Mr. Morgan. It was wrong of me. I understand why you’re upset.” 

He chuckles softly. “Ah, it’s a’right. I ain’t exactly innocent in that myself. Guess I earned it, to be honest.” 

“What do you mean?” 

He rubs his neck nervously. “I, uh, I read your diary too once. It was on your bedroll and I guess Grimshaw snatched you up while you was writin’. I was just passin’ by and saw it, couldn’t help myself.” 

You blush even more. Shit, shit shit! You wrote in there shortly after getting the damn thing that you have a massive crush on Arthur, it’s pretty much a guarantee that he saw it. 

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Morgan,” you say, closing your eyes. 

“For what?” he says, shocked. 

“That you had to read that. I’m… I’m such an idiot and I’m sure it’s the last thing you wanted to know about me. I completely understand if you don’t want to teach me anything else.” 

He turns to face you. He nervously reaches up a hand to tilt your head up to look at him. “Y/N, I know you read my journal. Pretty far back too, I’d guess. If you actually read it, you’d know I’ve… well, I’ve held somethin’ for you too.” 

You smile and take his hand into yours. “I don’t know why you would. I’m nothin’ special.” 

“Maybe you don’t see yourself the way I do.” 

You look up at him again. His face is inches from yours and his eyes dart down to your lips before going back to your eyes again. Is he thinking the same as you? Right now, you’d like nothing more than to kiss him. You start leaning up, you can feel the heat radiating from him. He moves closer, his free hand sliding over your back. Your lips are centimeters from touching. 

“Mr. Morgan, we are in the shit again. Deep in the shit!” the gravelly voice of Reverend Swanson washes over you again. He stumbles over, his eyes bloodshot. Arthur leans away and lets you go, making you let out a soft groan. 

“You got quite a way with words there, Mr. Swanson,” Arthur replies. 

“Words are the least of my problems, Mr. Morgan.” He stammers for a moment, almost as though he’s seeing something you can’t. His eyes refocus on you both standing inches apart, looking irritated. “But I wanted you both to know that you are children of God! Children of God.” He starts mumbling to himself, almost singing.

You chuckle. “That’s sweet, Reverend, but I stopped believing in God a long time ago.” 

“But he has never stopped believing in you,” Swanson says, then he stumbles off. 

Arthur lets out a long sigh and hangs his head so his hat covers his eyes. His cheeks are slightly pink. “Sorry for that interruption, Y/N.” 

“That’s okay, ain’t like we could stop him,” you say. You want to ask him to try that kiss again, but you just can’t manage to get the words out. He’s thinking the same thing, but like you, he’s too embarrassed to ask. Instead, his hand slowly wraps around yours. You look down at your entwined hands and then back up to him and smile. Encouraged by this, he lets your hand go and both of his slide over your back, pulling you close to him. Yours go up to settle on his shoulders. 

Before anyone else has the chance to ruin the moment again, Arthur dips down and presses his lips to yours. His are slightly chapped, but they’re warm. You’ve only imagined kissing him a hundred times, but you didn’t ever do him justice in those daydreams. You move your lips with his, your hand winding behind his neck to pull him even closer. His arms grip you tight, pressing your body against his. Your heart’s pounding in your chest. Something in your chest purrs as he deepens the kiss. Oh, how you’ve wanted this, wanted him. All those moments you spent alone with him, you wanted to kiss him exactly like this. 

After several moments of you studying his lips, he breaks it, his breath leaving in quick bursts. He smiles at you and cups your cheek, his thumb tracing your cheek bone. 

“I hope that was okay,” he says softly. 

“More than okay,” you say and you kiss him again. This one is short and brief, but just as sweet as the previous. You lay your head on his shoulder, your forehead pressed against his neck. His arms embrace you protectively and his heart hammers into your ear. You stare off across the silvery waters of the lake, content in this moment. You want it never to end. 

There’s no way you could know that Arthur, for the first time in a long time, finally thinks he may actually be a somewhat decent man if someone as sweet and good as you chooses to nestle in his arms like this. He kisses the top of your head, wishing he could tell you how grateful and how in awe he is. Perhaps he’ll have to write it in his journal and leave it somewhere that you’ll find it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly welcomed!


	66. "Don't die on me - please"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Instead of Eagle Flies, reader is the one who gets shot and Arthur tells her this, “ Don’t die on me– Please. ” After killing Cornwall. Reader survives though but isn't allowed to fight with the boys for awhile.

Hell. That’s where you’re at right now. You’re running along a boardwalk over the black, flaming ground, accompanied by Sadie Adler. She’s closely followed by Arthur Morgan and you three run along the path, closer to the main building of the oil factory. Up ahead are at least a dozen men, factory workers and army men, shooting at you. The three of you return fire. Mixed among them are a few members of your gang and some Wapiti warriors. 

The three of you finally leave the boardwalk and land on solid ground. Out of a door on the right, the Wapiti chief’s son Eagle Flies gets pinned by an army soldier. Arthur shoots him, giving Eagle Flies the chance to throw the dying man off. 

“Arthur! You came!” he says. It’s clear by his voice he’s relieved. 

“Course. Now come on, we ain’t outta the woods yet,” Arthur replies. 

You’re given about five seconds before a new wave of army men rounds the corner and begins shooting. As they’re taken down, Sadie screams. 

“Move up!” 

You and the others do now that you’re joined by Charles, Javier, Bill, John and Dutch. You make your way up towards the tracks where a train sits, always keeping an eye on Arthur. Of course, you’re worried about everyone’s survival. Despite how bad things have gotten in the gang, they’re still your family. Arthur’s as strong as ever, but he’s still just a man and you know from experience how easily a man can die when hit with a bullet. You can’t afford to lose him to one. He is your husband, after all. 

As the gang gets closer to the train, a door on one of the boxcars slides open. More army soldiers hop out firing, and then a gatling gun comes into view. A man grabs the handles and begins firing. You and the others take cover as quickly as you can, but you see two Wapiti warriors fall. 

“Arthur!” you scream over the roar of the gun. “Take him out!” 

Arthur hears you and nods, aiming around the corner of the building he’s hiding behind. Being the best shot, he’s the best chance of killing this bastard. You fire at the soldier handling the gun, successfully attracting his attention to you. It only takes a second before you see the telltale ribbon of blood fly into the air and the silence of the gun to know Arthur’s done the job. You let out your breath and continue on with the others, advancing upon the factory. 

This whole thing is a nightmare. You understand Eagle Flies’s fury behind this attack, but why the hell aren’t you and the others turning around and running away now that you know he’s alive and capable of doing so? Dutch keeps encouraging everyone to go on, to secure this place. You’ve no doubt he’s got some ulterior motive behind this whole thing. Why wouldn’t he? This whole time, he’s been stringing the Indians along, using their feud with the army for his own gain, and he’s made things twice as bad in the process. You’ve gotten extremely infuriated with his behavior in the past few weeks. The only reason you and Arthur have stayed so long is because you want to get as many out alive as you can. 

The gang’s in the main area just around the oil factory within the fences, taking down more of the army. Eagle Flies and Paytah run past you, taking down three soldiers with their bows and arrows. You see Arthur kneel down and shoot a man in the neck. Just as you’re aiming at another man, you get knocked onto the ground by something heavy. 

“Y/N!” you hear Arthur scream as you struggle against the thing holding you down. Turning around, you see it’s a soldier who tackled you. He’s got you pinned in such a way you can’t pull your pistol or knife out to get him off you. He grits his teeth and points a revolver at your face, clicking the hammer down. 

Suddenly the man’s thrown off you. Arthur’s picked him up by the collar and shoves his long knife into the man’s belly. He gurgles and collapses next to you. Arthur takes your hand and lifts you up. Despite being surrounded by gunfire, he checks to see you’re okay. You fend him off quickly and return to the fight. 

After a few more moments, the last few soldiers left standing flee into the hills and forests surrounding the factory. Dutch calls to everyone, making sure the gang’s alright. Surprisingly, no one was killed. The same cannot be said for the Wapiti, who have suffered heavy losses from this attack. You feel a surge of sorrow as Eagle Flies and Paytah wander, checking on the bodies of those who had been their friends, seeing if any of them lived. 

Dutch calls Arthur to his side and the two go into the building to retrieve railroad bonds. So that’s why Dutch pursued for so long. Of course he didn’t give a damn about the Indians. He merely used their attack as an excuse to steal the bonds. You feel a sharp flood of anger towards him and you go into the factory, wanting to give him a piece of your mind. 

You get into the building and find yourself alone. You’re not entirely sure where Arthur and Dutch went, but you see, out the large open door leading to the train tracks, more army soldiers approaching. Leading them is a familiar figure: Colonel Favours, the piece of shit spear-heading the movement and violence against the Wapiti. 

You start firing at the squad approaching you, but they fire back, forcing you to take cover behind some crates. They quickly advance and start going past you and into the factory. You’re worried, Arthur’s still in there. You just hope he and Dutch heard the gunshots and know to get out quickly. 

You hear them rushing past inside the factory and then something loud bursts and hisses, followed by Arthur’s yell. 

“Dutch!” you hear him scream. By his voice, you instantly know he’s in trouble. You shoot the last man you’ve been fighting with and run inside to find a soldier’s pinned Arthur to the ground. Dutch is nowhere to be seen. You quickly shoot the soldier and rush over to help Arthur up. 

Just as you reach him, you hear footsteps behind you. When you turn, you feel something slap you hard against the face and then a blinding pain in your abdomen. It knocks you off your feet and Arthur screams your name. 

You look up and see Colonel Favours standing above you, his gun pointed at your head. Just as he’s about to pull the trigger, his temple explodes in a cloud of blood, the air wrenched by the shot of a gun. He collapses near your feet and you clutch a hand over the spot on your abdomen that feels like it’s been set on fire. Pulling your hand away, you see it covered in blood. 

“Oh Goddamnit, Y/N!” Arthur growls as he runs over to your side and looks at your wound. Your breathing is sharp and fast. You’re scared. You’ve been shot before, but it was in your upper arm and far from lethal. This is different. You know how quickly people can die from a gunshot to the gut. 

“Arthur!” you whimper. 

“Shhh, shhhh, I got ya,” he says. He picks you up slowly, apologizing over and over again as you cry out in pain. He carries you towards the door bridal style. 

“That was damn stupid, sweetheart,” he grunts. “You shouldn’t have done that!” 

“I couldn’t let him kill you,” you say, tears leaking from your eyes. 

He rushes to the door and kicks it open, stepping out onto the platform. On the ground, Dutch and the others are mounting up. Arthur grits his teeth and glares at Dutch. 

“You. You walked away!” 

“I did no such thing,” Dutch says. 

Arthur is about to argue, but Charles rushes over. “Shot’s bad, Arthur. We need to get her somewhere and yank that bullet out.” 

Dutch hollers at the others to return to camp, but Charles, John and Sadie stay behind with Arthur, who’s still holding you. Eagle Flies runs over. 

“Bring her to my father, Arthur. We must move quickly.” 

By this point, the shock is beginning to set in. Your heart’s pumping hard and you’re starting to shiver. Arthur sets you down on your feet and strips off his coat, draping it over you. He calls his horse over and he and Charles lift you into the saddle. You cry out in pain and Arthur apologizes again. He gets in the saddle behind you. 

The group begins riding towards Wapiti. You try focusing on the conversation they’re having, anything in order to ignore the pain from your wound. You try to stay calm, knowing that the more you panic, the quicker you’ll bleed out. 

Arthur keeps a firm grip on you while directing his horse. He mutters in your ear to hold on. 

“I don’t want any of the money from those bonds,” Charles says. “Too much blood on them.” 

“I agree. Eagle Flies, I’m sorry about this. About all this. Dutch used you just like he used the rest of us. We’re nothin’ but angry pawns in his game.” 

Eagle Flies thanks Arthur for all his help, despite how things ended. “I’m just sorry it was Y/N to pay the ultimate price.” 

Arthur becomes furious at this. “Dutch had a chance to get me out. He saw I was in trouble and he walked away. If Y/N hadn’t been there, I’d be dead now!” 

“That seems to be what he does now,” John says. “No one matters anymore, everyone’s expendable.” 

“Let’s just get her there quickly, she ain’t got much time left,” Sadie says from the back. 

Arthur kicks his horse into a faster gallop, despite it causing more pain. Arthur whispers in your ear again, begging you to stay with him. You grip his hand as hard as you can, but he doesn’t like how weak it is. 

The horses slow to a trot as they enter the tribe. Many of the members stop and stare hard at you and the intruders, but then their eyes soften when they see Eagle Flies and Paytah. Eagle Flies dismounts his horse and rushes to his father’s tipi. Rains Fall comes out as Arthur dismounts and pulls you into his arms. At this point, you don’t have much energy left to even groan in pain. 

“Bring her inside. We will do what we can,” Rains Fall says to Arthur. 

You’re carried into the tipi and set down near the fire. Another man enters the tent, one you’ve seen in the tribe during your previous visits, but never met. He’s introduced as Snow Owl. He inspects you quickly. 

“The bullet must be removed immediately.” He has in his hand a small sack of tools. He pulls out a pair of thin tongs and holds them above the fire, sterilizing them. He removes them and waits for them to cool. 

Charles says that he wants to help the Wapiti begin moving as it will likely only be hours before the army comes here to retaliate for the earlier attack. Sadie stays by your side and Arthur holds your hand still. 

“Arthur, will you come with me to camp?” John says. “I want to get Jack and Abigail. Think our time with the gang is done.” 

Arthur sighs. He doesn’t want to leave you now but he’s so enraged by what Dutch did he wants to tell him exactly what he thinks about him. “Sure. Best be quick though.” 

“Arthur?” you whimper, your voice weak. 

He leans down and kisses you softly. “I’ll be back before you know it, darlin’. Just… don’t die on me. Please. I need ya.” He kisses your head, cupping your cheek. You want to beg him to stay with you, that you’re scared, but you’re so weak you can’t get the words out. Arthur gets up and heads out with John. You want to cry. 

Snow Owl inspects the tongs and deems them cool enough to use on you. He instructs Sadie and Eagle Flies to hold you down. Sadie grabs your legs while Eagle Flies pins your shoulders down. Your heart begins to beat fast as Snow Owl gently pulls your shirt and the hem of your chemise out from under your pants and lifts them enough to see your wound. 

Despite your fear of the pain you’re about to be in, you hear a soft song being sung by Rains Fall. There are no words, just a tune, but you feel oddly comforted. Until Snow Owl dips the tongs down and goes into your wound. Your eyes widen, your vision sparking and your entire body’s on fire. A guttural scream forces its way out of your throat and you start to cringe your body, trying to get away from the pain. You’re writhing so much that Paytah has to jump in and help hold you down. 

The pain’s too much, your vision begins fogging. You feel something tugging at your abdomen and look down, the pain becoming less. Snow Owl is holding up the tongs, a bullet held in between them. You take in a deep breath and then you're pulled into a world of darkness. 

************************************

You’ve no idea what time it is, if it’s night or day, or how long it’s been since you were shot. Your senses slowly begin waking up. First is your hearing, you hear the crackling of a fire, the soft sound of someone breathing. It sounds familiar. Next is your smell detecting the hint of pine and leather. It smells comforting, like home. Last to return is touch. You’re lying in a slightly elevated position, your neck and head propped up on something soft and warm. Something gently strokes across your forehead in a repetitive motion. There’s a dull but constant ache in your belly. 

The memories of everything that’s happened come back. You recall watching Arthur, struggling beneath a soldier until you shot him, which resulted in you getting shot too. You remember the painful ride to Wapiti and Arthur leaving you at the moment when you wanted him there the most. 

You take in a deep breath, and the thing rubbing your forehead moves down to your cheek. Your eyes begin to open and the first thing you see is Arthur looking down at you, a soft smile on his lips. He sighs in relief. 

“Hey, sweetheart. You’re okay.” 

You find your head’s in his lap and the thing rubbing your forehead is his thumb. You smile back in return and try lifting your hand to grab his, but it feels like your arm’s made out of metal and is now too heavy for you to lift. 

Arthur asks if you’re thirsty and you nod. He gently lifts you up into a sitting position and pulls you into his lap. You settle into his chest, ignoring the burn in your abdomen. You’re shivering a little, feeling cold. Arthur rustles through his satchel and pulls out a bottle of whiskey. He uncorks it and helps you have a few sips. When you’re done, he notices how you’re shaking. He grabs his dark green shotgun coat and drapes it over you. Between the coat and his body, you quickly warm up. He kisses your head softly. 

“You in a lot of pain, sweetheart?” 

“It’s not horrible,” you mumble into his shirt. His arms fold tighter around you. “When… when are we going back to the gang?” 

You’re surprised you’re not back in Beaver Hollow now, and that you can’t hear the squawking of Grimshaw now. All you can hear is the fire and birds singing outside the tent. Sure, you and Arthur had discussed potentially leaving the gang when things started to get really bad, but it just hadn’t happened. 

“We’re, uh, we’re not, sweetheart. John and I got Abigail and Jack and I told Dutch that I’m done giving him everything and getting nothing in return. He almost made me lose you. I’ve lost a lot of things because of this life, but I won’t lose you. Not if I can help it.” 

He settles a hand over your head and you manage to drape an arm around his waist. “Good. I was starting to think we wouldn’t get out alive with how things were getting.” 

“That was my thought too, and I ain’t willin’ to risk my life no more for the spoutings of a mad man. Not anymore.”

You sigh, nuzzling into his chest. With his scent flooding into your nose, the whiskey in your belly and the warmth of his body, it doesn’t take long to fall asleep again. 

***********************************

Over the next few weeks, Arthur keeps an extremely protective watch over you. The first week was tough since you really couldn’t move much, but you needed to be moved to a more secure place. Arthur and John had their belongings from the gang, but you were all essentially living in tents. It wasn’t an ideal environment for Jack and Abigail wanted a proper home for her family. Sadie was willing to go anywhere with your group, and Charles had stayed to help the Wapiti. 

Eventually John stumbled upon a cabin large enough to house at least you, Arthur and his family. Sadie was happy to camp outside for the time being, so you were moved there. 

Arthur was extremely protective of you. Of course, he’s always been but it’s tripled in your condition. He confines you as much as he can to the bed you share on the ground level of the cabin (John, Abigail and Jack sleep in a bed in the loft). You quickly grow tired of it and Arthur relents to letting you go sit outside by the fire, but never leaving sight of the cabin. 

You can tell he’s struggling with the sudden change of your lifestyle. It’s been a long time since he didn’t have to worry about jobs to do. Of course, he and John take a few risks to go and rob in order to get the money they’ve lost. It makes Abigail furious as she knows the best way to properly leave the gang is to get a new lifestyle.

It weighs heavy on all your minds that Dutch and Micah could very well come looking for you all. It sounds like they put up quite a fight when John and Arthur announced they were leaving. Dutch always said the gang wasn’t like a prison camp, that anyone was free to leave when they wanted to, but he took John and Arthur’s leaving as personal. Arthur retorted that Dutch denying he left Arthur to die was personal, which only made him more angry and more determined to keep his boys in the gang. 

Fear that the remaining members of the gang will find you forces your group to abandon the cabin and continue heading west in search of a safer place to live. The Pinkertons are no longer a threat as their main target is Dutch and they know he’s in the east. Arthur didn’t want to move you, fearing you’re not strong enough, but Abigail was determined to keep moving, wanting to keep her boy safe. You convinced Arthur you could ride to a new location, that you were strong enough and he finally relented, though he was almost a pest with how much he tried to make sure you weren’t in any pain. 

It’s been weeks now since you left the gang and you’re mostly healed. You and Arthur live alone in a cabin just east of Strawberry and north of the Upper Montana River. The house sits on a slight ridge, which gives your backyard a stunning view of the river and Great Plains beyond. 

John, Abigail and Jack no longer accompany you. It was decided a few weeks back that you’d be harder to track by lawmen and Dutch if you separated. Sadie went her own separate way as well, stating she might try her hand at bounty hunting. Those goodbyes were the worst in your life and you miss them all dearly, but you’re not unhappy. 

You and Arthur are building a good life out here in this cabin. He happily gave up life as an outlaw, working as a rancher. He sells his drawings on the side and makes surprisingly good money with them. You take up writing as a hobby and get a job in Strawberry working in the post office. You and Arthur make enough money to live a comfortable life. 

Occasionally you receive word from John or Sadie, who both promised to keep in touch (under aliases of course). About a year after abandoning the gang, John sends word that Abigail left him and, in order to try and win her back, he bought a plot of land called Beecher’s Hope.

“Don’t know why John would want that piece of garbage,” Arthur said. “Nothin’ but dirt and dead grass.” 

John’s letter went on to say that he and Sadie were doing some bounty hunting work in order to pay for the land (in a legal fashion) and asked if you and Arthur would be interested in helping him to build a house. You were, so you headed on down to help John put his house up and it turned out he had Uncle and Charles with him. 

You stand now near the campfire on Beecher’s Hope. The house is partially built, at least the exterior structure is up. It’s night and no one is working now. Uncle is showing Charles some dancing moves, which he doesn’t seem to appreciate. John and Arthur watch, drinking beer. You walk up to Arthur and loop your arm through his, leaning your head on his arm. He winds his arm behind you and kisses your head. 

You’re hoping all this effort on John’s part will get him his family back. Otherwise all this work and time will be for nothing, but you still have had a great time. It’s been nice to reunite with so many old friends. You wish you could bump into the other girls, even old Grimshaw. 

Of Dutch and Micah, you have heard little. A few months after fleeing the gang, you heard rumors they headed north, got trapped by Pinkertons and then disappeared. There’s been some speculation they may have headed back down this way, but you’ve heard nothing substantial. Even so, they’re likely any worry to you. 

You look up into the star-speckled sky. You’re content in this moment. You’ve never loved Arthur more than you do now and you’ve never been this happy. Of all the things you suffered through with living in the gang, you’d happily do them all over again if you knew they’d wind up here.


	67. "I want to protect you"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Reader to Arthur while he and Micah are in the middle of a shootout against the O'Driscolls during their first stage robbery mission. She appears from her hiding after following him and calls out him then yelled, “ I want to protect you. ” at him.

“Oh how I’d like to put a bullet in your head,” you think as you stare through your binoculars. You see Arthur’s small figure, sitting on his horse on a ledge overlooking Big Valley. Next to him is Micah. Arthur’s a better person than you in that he tolerates Micah just long enough to do a job. 

You haven’t trusted Micah since the beginning. Despite the fact that you’ve only been with the gang about a year, when Dutch brought Micah in about six months back, you instantly got bad feelings about him. Of course his behavior does nothing to contradict your suspicions. You’re sure he’s up to something, or plotting something that can only spell bad news. 

Arthur, your best friend and boyfriend (though you’ve been hiding it from the others), told you he was going to help Micah pull a job as a way to make it up to Dutch for him getting thrown in the Strawberry jail. You volunteered to help, you like doing jobs with Arthur. You make a good team, he’s said so himself. However, Arthur had a bad feeling about this job too and asked you to stay in camp, not wanting to risk you getting hurt. He knows you can handle yourself just fine, you’ve done plenty of risky jobs before. But he doesn’t like the way Micah talks about and to you, so he didn’t want to give him a chance to do something with you being outside of camp. 

When Arthur left to go do the job, you waited until he was out of sight and then mounted up, following him. Sneaking after him was a lot harder than you thought as you believed he’d make a straight line to where Micah was waiting. Instead, he seemed to get distracted by just about everything. He stopped and hunted a bit, then he fished for a few minutes. On the border of West Elizabeth and New Hanover, he ran into a woman whose horse had died and she asked him for a ride to Valentine. Arthur being Arthur, he did just that. On his way back to West Elizabeth, he spotted a small cabin and he went to investigate it. It’d been hours since he left, how much extra crap was he going to do? You know he detests Micah, but this is a little much. 

Finally, Arthur made his way to Micah’s little camp. You waited for them to leave and were about to follow them until something caught your attention near Micah’s tent. After dismounting, you picked it up. It was a newspaper clipping, stating a $20,000 reward for Dutch Van der Linde. You wondered what Micah’s doing with this. Why would he need this? Maybe he plans on giving it to Dutch to warn him or maybe so Dutch can brag, but Dutch is already aware of the price on his head. No, that can’t be it. You came up with the nasty idea that Micah has something planned and has no intention of mentioning it to Dutch. 

You stuffed the clipping into your satchel and followed Arthur’s trail. That’s where you’re at now, watching them from your distant spot. You figured out pretty quickly that they were waiting for a stagecoach, that can be the only reason why they’re hiding in that particular spot. 

You only have to wait a short bit before, on the trail below the pair, a stage rolls along. The tiny figures leave their elevated spot and dash down the mountainside, advancing towards the stage. You watch them for a moment and then follow, keeping enough distance between you and Arthur as to not be seen, but close enough that if things go south, you can intervene. 

They chase the stage a short ways, finally killing the driver and the four riders accompanying it. You stop in a copse of trees, close enough to listen. Arthur and Micah haggle for a moment. Arthur wants to check the stage to see if they can just carry the loot back and leave the coach. Micah argues that the gang could use another stage. This strikes you as odd. The last thing a gang needs is to have a bank stage right in the middle of camp, especially when this robbery is reported. That would be asking for trouble. Micah is definitely up to something, but Arthur agrees in the end and they get on and drive off. 

You follow them south towards the Dakota River. You have to keep a fair distance now so as not to be seen. This means you can’t hear what they’re saying either. As the river comes into view, you see men from the other side scrambling about, scurrying behind trees and rocks. Their behavior screams that they’re setting up an ambush. 

Before you can run to the stage and warn Arthur and Micah, the ground beneath the stage explodes as they enter the water, sending the entire thing up. The stage splashed down hard in the river, its wheels still spinning up in the air. You quickly dismount your horse and hide behind a large rock and you watch as Arthur and Micah do the same. 

Swarms of O’Driscolls run out from their hiding places, shooting at the two men. You haven’t been noticed by any of them, but you help take out the O’Driscolls. You can hear Micah and Arthur shouting at one another but can’t understand what they’re saying. 

Finally, after moments of gunfire, so many of the O’Driscolls have dropped that the few still standing turn tail and run. You let out your breath and mount up on your horse, forgetting that you aren’t supposed to be here. Arthur specifically said he didn’t want you to come. 

“Y/N?” he says when he sees you approaching. He and Micah are standing at the back of the upturned stage, debating on how to crack open the back. 

“Arthur, everything okay? Are you hurt?” 

“Glad to see you care so much for my safety, Y/N,” Micah says. 

“Shut up, Micah,” Arthur snaps. He turns back to you, his eyes hard and his brow furrowed. “Y/N, what are you doing here? I said you weren’t coming!” 

You dismount your horse again and stand at the very edge of the river, the water barely touching your boots. 

“I know, but… I had to make sure you were safe.” 

“Oh Morgan,” Micah says in a simpering tone. “That’s so sweet. You’re girl was scared and thought you might need to hold your hand.” 

“I said shut up, Micah!” Arthur turns around and yells, making Micah laugh. 

“You always was one for the girls,” he retorts. “Now how about you two argue later and let’s get this loot out of here before the law shows up. Either of you got a lock pick?” 

As he’s shuffling through his pockets, you just whip out your pistol and shoot the lock. The door swings open, showing a smaller box with another lock. Micah chuckles and he and Arthur drag it out and bring it to dry land. Arthur bends down, smashes the lock and opens the box, showing two stacks of bills. 

“Pretty good take,” he says. He’s just about to hand you your share when Micah steps in. 

“She shouldn’t get any, Morgan. She wasn’t part of the job.” 

“For your information, I shot several O’Driscolls, you sack of shit. Any one of them could have killed you.” 

“You weren’t invited!” 

“So what? I still did the work. Now if you don’t wanna pay me, then that’s fine. But fair is fair, so maybe I’ll have a little word with Dutch about what I found in your little camp.” 

Micah pales a bit. “What did you find? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Sure you don’t. But choice is yours, Micah. Pay me my share and you buy my silence.” 

He grumbles and turns away as Arthur hands you the money, his eyes questioning. Micah mounts his horse. 

“Have fun with your girl, Morgan. Just hope she doesn’t dangle anything over your head too.” 

“Yeah well I ain’t the one tryin’ to cheat her out of what she’s earned, Micah. Now get outta here.” 

When Micah’s gone, he turns back to you. “Now explain to me again why you’re here, Y/N? I told ya I didn’t want ya havin’ a part of this.” 

“I know,” you say, your stomach clenching, butterflies fluttering inside it. “But… I had a bad feeling. Like something was going to go wrong. Turns out I was right. And I… I just wanted to protect you.” 

He blinks quickly. “Protect me?” he says slowly. “I don’t… Y/N, I don’t need protectin’. I can handle myself just fine.” 

“I know you can, I’m not trying to say you can’t. But don’t you ever get bad feelings about Micah?” 

You pull out the news article you found and show it to Arthur, explaining where it was. He reads it quickly, his brows crinkling. 

“Why would he have this?” he asks. 

“Exactly my question. I think there’s a lot about Micah that we don’t know and he ain’t willing to share.” 

Arthur sighs and hands you the article back. “Maybe I’ll talk with Dutch, though he seems very taken with him. Good shot, by the way.” He motions to the river of dead men. 

You smile up at him. “I learned from the best.” 

He grins back and reaches over, taking your hand in his. The two of you walk over to your horses and mount up, riding off before the law shows up. As you canter along beside him, you pass by a ranch and a thought comes to mind. 

“Arthur, have you collected that debt for Downes yet?” 

He shakes his head. “Not yet. Was gonna do it on my way back from this thing with Micah but…” He leaves it there. He doesn’t like collecting debts in front of you because he doesn’t like the person he has to be to do the job. 

“Well, would it be possible for you to get the money some other way? I’ve been having bad feelings about him too.” You tell Arthur how you’ve seen the man in Valentine, coughing and spitting blood. You also know how Arthur usually has to get physical with debtors. 

“I’ll be fine, sweetheart. He ain’t gonna be a problem.” 

“Please, Arthur. I know you hate doing it, so just drop it.” 

Arthur slows his horse down to a walk so he can throw you a dark look. “I already promised Strauss I’d get him money.” 

God, he can be so damn stubborn! You sigh and reach into your satchel, pulling out the money you made from this job. “Here. This enough to cover the debt?” 

Arthur’s brow furrows again. “Darlin’, that ain’t how it works-” 

You cut him off. “I don’t care! I said I was trying to protect you back there and it still applies! That man was horribly sick. Besides, Strauss won’t question where this money came from, he didn’t even know I was doing a job. I don’t mind giving up $30 for peace of mind.” 

Arthur gives an irritated huff, but he takes your money. “Fine, have it your way.” 

You feel a weight lift from your chest. “Thank you, Arthur.” 

You go back to camp with him, having no idea how you’ve just saved his life, but also blissfully unaware of how much pain, sorrow and heartbreak is yet to fall onto the entire gang. At this moment, your future seems bright and full of opportunity and possibilities, especially when it comes to the man by your side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated!


	68. "This place gives me the creeps"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Do you accept horror? If so, “ This place gives me the creeps. ” reader to Arthur after he had saved her from Edmund Lowry jr. They could be hunting in the middle of the night or exploring and reader was captured, taken to his cabin. Arthur ends up finding her but she (while having a handkerchief wrapped around her mouth) tells him to run but he gets hit from the back of the head and you decide what happens next from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: gore, blood

There it is again, that horrible smell. You’re wandering around the edge of the Dakota river, your pole in your hand. Arthur’s not far away, hunting a moose that he’d seen earlier. The two of you came down here earlier, needing a break from camp. Horseshoe Overlook’s a beautiful place, but sometimes you need to get away. 

When you got to the river, you saw the conditions of the water were perfect for fishing. The sun’s nearly set, the shadows of the mountain casting over it. Swarms of insects flitter above the river, a tempting feast for the fish below. Arthur had fishes for a while with you, but he wasn’t getting any luck (you had some), and then he’d seen that moose. 

Not long before he left, you caught a whiff of something foul. It smelled like decay mixed with the odd combination of cologne. You thought maybe, since it was coming from Arthur’s direction, the cologne had been coming from him and maybe there was a dead deer down the river. But you’ve been best friends with Arthur for years, you knew he didn’t wear cologne. You brushed it off and then Arthur headed off for that moose. 

You sigh as you haven’t had a nibble on your bait for the past few casts. Perhaps the fish are done eating for the night or maybe they’ve lost interest in your bait. Hard to say. Then that smell came again, but Arthur’s nowhere near so no part of it is coming from him. Where is it coming from? 

You look around for the source but can see nothing. As you return to looking at the river, an unsettling feeling settles over you. Once you’d been riding out near Owanjilla and were stalked by a cougar. Luckily you’d had some poison arrows and managed to shoot it with one before it could get you. You never forgot that feeling of being hunted though. This feeling is the same, like a predator is targeting you and preparing to strike. 

Just as you’re about to collapse your pole and call for Arthur, something hard slams into the back of your head. Stars erupt in your vision and you collapse. The last thing you feel is your cheek digging into the soggy sand and someone grabbing your wrists, then everything goes black. 

********************************

That horrible smell wafts through your nose only it’s a hundred times stronger. It’s so powerful it forces you back to consciousness. You blink several times, your vision slowly returning. It’s then that you realize how uncomfortable and sore you are. The back of your head’s tender from where you’d been hit and your upper arms feel slightly stretched.

Your vision returns and you look around. You’re tired to a wooden pole, forced to your knees, your elbows pointed up and your hands tied behind your head on the other side of the pole. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dim light, but when they do, you wish you couldn't see anything. 

A grizzly scene sprawls around you. It appears that you’re in a cellar of a small cabin since dirt and small roots of plants is coming between the logs acting as walls. The floor’s made of hard, compacted earth. On one part of the wall are letters and crudely drawn pictures. You can’t see them well enough to see what they’re of. Near the pictures are several strings dangling from the ceiling, tied to severed hands and feet. A bucket of red liquid you suspect is blood sits on the table next to the wall. In the corner on the farside of the room is the worst bit: the headless, disemboweled corpse of a man, still tied to a post similar to yours and in the same position as you. 

Your heart is pounding and you look away from the corpse, despite your eyes constantly flitting back to it. In the corner closest to you is the strangest thing: a camera on a tripod. Whoever is responsible for this is clearly sick enough to record his “work”. The smell is perhaps the worst part of the whole thing. It chokes you nearly to the point of making you vomit. 

You’re beginning to hyperventilate. Fear rips through you and it takes all your power not to scream and cry. You twitch your arms a little and feel the rope around your wrists catch on something. A nail? It’s hard to say since you can’t see. You continue rubbing the rope against it, hoping to fray it. 

After a few moments, you hear a door open somewhere behind the wall with the dangling arms. Someone begins shuffling out of your line of sight, but then a new source of light appears. A lantern appears, followed by an arm and then the body of a man. For a homicidal psychopath, he’s the last thing you’d expect. You’d think a man with only three teeth and eyes that stared in opposite directions with wild tangles of hair. 

Instead, you see a man wearing a crisp white shirt with clean black pants. His hair is slicked down and parted so perfectly, and he has a long, curled mustache. His dark eyes land on you, but it’s almost like they see through you. 

“Oh I see you’ve woken long enough to see my collection before I started my newest piece,” he says in an uncomfortably steady voice. “I thought you might not get the pleasure. I was sorry I missed your friend. Maybe he will look for me, or maybe he’ll not worry about you. Or maybe he’ll do both.” 

His eyes hover on a spot above your head. His lips tremble as though he wants to say something and then, stiffly he turns around and puts the lantern on the table. He looks at the pictures for a minute. He bends down and you think he’s about to dip his hands into the bucket of blood, but then he changes his mind at the last second. 

“I want to introduce you to a new friend. Perhaps you’re already acquainted with them, but you’re about to take it to the next level,” he says. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a bandana. He approaches you slowly, your breath picking up. How can he not hear your blood pumping in your ears? He reaches for your face and ties the bandana around your face, stuffing it into your mouth. 

“I want this to be a quiet introduction for your new friend. They are the most intimate settings. He’s my friend too, though I think you’ll get a much better understanding of him than I. He’s all our friends, we meet him from the moment we’re born and yet he’s the one we run from the most. Perhaps you should think about all those times you spent running from him. His name is Pain.” 

He goes back to the table and picks up a long, rusty knife. He turns back to you, his eyes on that spot above your head again. He starts walking slowly towards you. Straining your wrists against the spot that might be your escape, you try to scream but the cloth prevents you from doing so. His lips spread in a faint smile as he gets closer. 

The sound of the door in the adjacent room makes the man stop. He lets out a long breath and then, as silently as a ghost, he slides into the shadows of the room and vanishes. Heavy footsteps approach and you hear Arthur’s voice. 

“Jesus,” he says. 

“Arthur!” you try to scream through your gag. “Arthur, run!” 

Arthur comes around the corner and his eyes land on you. “Shit, Y/N! Thank God I found ya.” 

He sets his lantern down and is about to run towards you, but the crazy man appears from the shadows and slams him in the back of his head. Arthur falls as you try to scream again and you can tell he’s been knocked out. You start rubbing the rope around your wrists against the nail again, trying even harder to cut yourself free. Tears leak from your eyes as you stare at Arthur’s motionless body, desperate to get free and terrified you won’t be able to. 

“I didn’t expect your other friend so soon,” the man says. “I had his own session planned but it was for after yours. I thought he might like to see how pretty your hands are away from your arms. Still I can manage with this. I’ve never had an audience for my work. Maybe I’ll change that. You will be my new experiment.” 

The man flips Arthur over onto his back. You wish he’d open his eyes. Just wake up, you think, please just wake up. He doesn’t though and the man unbuttons his shirt and then his union suit, exposing his chest and stomach. Sure, you’ve wanted to see him undressed before, but not like this. The man exposes Arthur’s chest and then takes his knife. He swipes the tip along his skin, not cutting it. 

“You never realize how strange and wonderful the body is until you see the insides doused in light. When you see the way a heart beats, you will want to see it again and again. Let me give you a demonstration. Watch closely, it’ll only beat for a few moments after I get down to work.” 

You wrench and pull your arms as hard as possible and, somehow, through some miracle, the rope snaps. You fall on your front, your hands catching you. They slip a little in some drying blood, but you quickly recollect yourself and launch yourself at the man. Your hands wrap around his throat and he begins pressing the knife towards you. As he’s about to thrust it into your belly, you kick his knee. He winces and bends down, allowing you to get the knife out of his hand. Unfortunately, since one of your hands has released his neck, he takes the opportunity to loosen your grip and he throws you against the wall. 

Your breath bursts from your lungs and then he slams his arms into your throat. 

“I see our friend Pain has come to visit us all today. I must admit I have missed him, but he is not here for me.” 

He begins to press hard against your neck. You try fighting him off, but you’re quickly losing strength. His eyes are on that spot above your head again and his mouth’s open a bit. Suddenly a massive form rises up behind him and grabs him around the middle, yanking him off of you. It’s Arthur and he slams the man into the wall, knocking him out. He quickly pulls out his rope and ties the man up. 

“Shit,” he says quietly as you cough and gag. You look up at him, massaging your neck. 

“Arthur. What happened?” you say in a rough voice. 

He looks at you and sees tears in the bottom of your eyes. “Come on, let’s get out of here. Take this bastard to the sheriff in Valentine.” 

He picks the man up and heaves him over his shoulder before offering his hand to you. You take it and the two of you leave the cellar of the cabin, walking out into starlight. Arthur throws the man onto the back of his horse and then turns back to you. His chest’s still exposed and you can’t help but stare at it, thinking you almost saw a part of him you never want to see. You can’t blink or close your eyes and your lip trembles. 

“Hey,” Arthur says. He gets close to you and puts a hand under your chin, lifting your eyes to his. “Hey, you’re okay, darlin’. You’re safe.” 

By now, the shock’s setting in and you’re trembling. Arthur wraps his arms around you and pulls you in close. You don’t care that your face is pressed against the bare skin of his chest. In fact, it’s kind of nice, despite the horror of what nearly happened. His skin’s warm and soft and he smells good. You’re glad that the two of you have been friends for so long that he’s not put off by this. You’ve been secretly in love with him for nearly as long and have dreamed of doing this with him a hundred times. You just wish the circumstances were different.

“Thank you, Arthur. For coming for me.” 

“Of course, darlin’. I couldn’t not. When I saw your fishing pole lyin’ in the sand, I knew you was in trouble.” He pulls away from you and rebuttons his union suit and shirt. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s get this bastard to town.” 

You nod and Arthur grabs your hand to lead you over to your horse, as if he knows you're badly shaken. 

"This place gives me the creeps," you say, looking around at the trees and back at the cabin, which you see is nothing more than a burnt shell with the cellar intact. 

Arthur agrees with you and then the two of you mount up. The man on the back of his horse groans a little as he starts to wake up. Arthur runs his horse even faster, but luckily Valentine isn't far. Within two minutes, you're both pulling up to the sheriff's office.

After dismounting, Arthur pulls the man off his horse and back onto his shoulder. You follow him with your pistol drawn as the man's fully awake at this point and you don't trust he won't try something. Fortunately, he says nothing, as if he's taken a vow of silence.

Arthur hauls him in and the sheriff stands up from his seat. After dumping the man onto the ground and cutting the bonds around his feet, Arthur and the sheriff talk about why he brought the man here. You say nothing as you stare coldly at him, wishing for nothing but his death. Your finger flicks over your trigger. Arthur yanks him to his feet and pushes him towards the sheriff.

"Go look in the cellar, sheriff. I think he killed quite a few people." 

"Will do. Now you come with me, calm as you be," the sheriff says to the man. It's clear by his tone that he finds the man disturbing.

"My name is Edmund Lowry Jr., sir," he says in his creepy, even tone. "You will remember that." 

He looks at a spot above the sheriff's head, just like he did with you. Part of you wonders if he's blind, but you can tell by the way his eyes flit about that he's not. Not only that, but when you were tied up in his cellar, he was too coordinated.

The sheriff slowly walks the man towards the cells. "Oh I'm sure I shall. You are one frightening fella." 

Before you and Arthur can say anything, he cuts the ropes binding Edmund's hands and it's as quick as lightning. The man snaps around and launches himself onto the sheriff, knocking him down. He makes a strange "aye aye" sound over and over again as he tries to sink his teeth into the sheriff's throat. You quickly raise your pistol and shoot the man in the back and he goes limp.

Arthur walks over and shoves the body off the sheriff and helps him up. 

"My God," the sheriff says. "What a monster. I'll uh I'll pay you two for your troubles and uh get this… get this cleaned up." 

He sits down at his desk and pulls out a bottle of whiskey and then two clips of money, tossing one to you and the other to Arthur. You both thank him and then head out. You're grateful to put space between you and that awful man, even if he is dead. 

Once outside, you stop and tilt your head back, letting out a deep breath. It's impossible for you to count how many times you've been shot at or thrown from your horse. Tonight was not the first night you've been inches from death, but it was definitely the most terrifying out of all of them. Sure, you've had people wish for your death, but never has anyone wanted you dead purely for the act of watching you die. That man was pure evil.

"You okay?" Arthur asks, bringing you back to reality. 

"Y-yeah," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. 

Arthur looks down the street and then back at you. "Come on, let's stay in town for the night." 

He grabs his horse's reins. You do the same with your horse and then Arthur surprises you yet again. He offers his hand to you. Part of you wonders if he's doing this because he knows you're shaken and need a comforting hand, but you wish more than anything that he was doing it because he feels something for you too. 

Walking down the street, hand in hand, Arthur says nothing. Perhaps tonight was as frightening for him as it was for you. Not that you blame him. Big, tough and scary as Arthur can be, he's still capable of fear. 

After hitching the horses, you both walk inside and Arthur offers another surprise. He orders only one room. You give him a curious look to which he doesn’t respond. Heading upstairs, you wait for him to say he’s going to simply make sure you’re able to settle in fine and then head back to camp alone. Instead, he goes into the room and walks over to the bed. There’s only one. You stand awkwardly in the doorway as he starts taking off his boots. Maybe he meant for you to buy your own room. 

“Uh, I guess I’ll… um, get my own room,” you say. 

Arthur calls your name softly. “You don’t need to. I hope you don’t mind, but I thought maybe you could use some company for the night. What happened tonight was… well, it weren’t good.” 

You sigh in relief. Oh, if Arthur only knew how many nights you wished to share the same bed with him. You did once before, months ago. You’d been out camping with him and he’d forgotten his tent and it rained that night. You invited him to sleep in your tent, which was barely big enough to fit two people. You had to try so hard that night not to appear too much like you wanted to cuddle up with him. 

You stare at the bed, realizing it’s going to be a tight fit for the two of you, and Arthur’s a broad guy. 

“You sure?” you ask. 

He smiles a bit and hides his eyes beneath his hat the way he does when he’s embarrassed. “Sure. Besides I… I don’t wanna spend the night alone either. I hope you don’t mind or think I’m bein’ forward.” 

“Not at all, Mr. Morgan.” You sit beside him and remove your boots. The two of you lay down and stare at the ceiling for a moment. As if on cue, your brain starts to replay memories of the cellar. You see the dangling hands, the pictures, the camera, the corpse. Arthur lying on his back, a knife’s tip centimeters from his bare chest. You begin to shake. 

“You okay?” Arthur whispers in the dark. 

“Y-yeah. I’m fine.” 

“You, uh, you can come over if you want.” 

You look over at him but can’t see his face in the dark. Is he serious? Is he inviting you to cuddle? If you hadn’t just survived such a disturbing situation, you would turn around and put your back to him, but you’re freaked out enough that you roll onto your side and slide your head onto his chest. His arm winds around you and settles onto your shoulder. Normally you would flinch, but the heat from his hand feels so warm and comforting, you try not to enjoy it too much. Your hand slides up his body and settles on his upper peck. As you do, you hear his heartbeat pick up slightly. 

The two of you lie entwined around each other for a few minutes. Arthur’s free hand settles on his stomach and you move yours from his chest and over his hand. 

“Thank you for this, Arthur,” you whisper. “I… I didn’t know I needed it.” 

Arthur responds by placing a soft kiss on your head. “Any time, darlin’. I… I hate to admit this, but I been lookin’ for an excuse to do this for months.” 

“Really?” you say, looking up at him. 

“Really.” 

You smile and lean down a bit, placing a kiss on his lips. He responds instantly, his lips moving with yours. It’s as if he was thinking of doing the same thing. You cup his cheek with your hand, the stubble of his chin rubbing on your palm. He tastes good, his breath moving across your face. His lips are slightly chapped like your own. After a moment, you pull away. 

“Sorry. I had to do that,” you say. 

He chuckles a bit. “Don’t apologize for that, sweetheart. If you hadn’t done it, I would’ve.” 

You kiss him again and then lay your head back on his chest. His arm winds even tighter around you. As you lie in his embrace, you know those horrible memories won’t be able to haunt you. Not tonight. Not like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly welcomed and appreciated!


	69. "I won't say I'm in love"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Arthur denying his feelings for reader be like: plays Hercules (1997) - I Wont Say Im In Love

Arthur’s leaning against a tree at the edge of Clemens Point, feeling like a lovestruck idiot. He’s been watching you for longer than he cares to admit. Despite being the newest member of the gang, you’ve continuously surprised him over the past few weeks. It was the obvious stuff at first, the way you wore your hair, the way you talked to people (especially him), how you treated your horse. Now it’s the small things he’s taken notice of. How you brush the hair from your face, how you like to watch the sunrise while drinking your morning coffee. 

He rubs his hand down his face, knowing he shouldn’t get involved with you. He’s a fool for falling for you in the first place. Not that there’s anything wrong with you, he thinks, but no one would want his affections. Besides, he’s had too many bad experiences with romantic relationships that it’s just easier to be alone. He’s still heartbroken about how things ended between him and Mary, and thoughts of Eliza and Isaac still torment him. The last thing he wants is to add you to his list. 

He crosses his arms, still leaning against the tree and watching you walk across the camp to go and feed the chickens. He watches them gather around your feet, pecking at the grass for the food you’re tossing down. He’s almost tempted to join your side, to look for any excuse to talk to you. You’ve become close friends after all, talking comes easy. But he’s decided to try and push you away, he can’t risk falling for you. Or at least falling for you more than he already has. 

“Hey ol’ man, grumpy Morgan!” Sean chuckles, coming towards him. He’s clearly on guard duty, the repeater in his hands. 

“What you want, boy?” Arthur says, clearing his throat and looking towards the lake, trying to look innocent. 

“Nothin’. Just wonderin’ when you’s gonna ask that girl out. Y’know, Karen was tellin’ me the other day how Y/N fancies you. It ain’t a secret you fancy her too. Why not just do everyone a favor, take her out?” 

“You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Arthur growls. “It ain’t like that between us.” 

“Oh I can see it all over your face, Morgan. You. Love. Her.” 

“You’re the world’s biggest fool, Sean. If you know what’s best for ya, you’ll shut your mouth.” 

“I knew it, I knew it!” Sean laughs. “Yer the most predictable person. Whenever someone says somethin’ about you that’s true, ya get all defensive and angry. Just do yerself a favor, take that girl out on the town. Hey, if ya need an excuse, I overheard her sayin’ she’s been missin’ the ‘forests of West Elizabeth’.” He makes air quotes. 

Before Arthur can snap at him again, he walks away, chuckling lightly. Arthur sighs and leans further against the tree. Sean’s definitely given him something to think about. The forests of West Elizabeth, he repeats silently. What exactly does that mean? He knows you come from out west and that you prefer it out there, much like himself. He’s never heard you talk about forests or anything like that. 

Against his better judgment, Arthur comes up with a plan and decides to bring it to you. Besides, he’d be lying if he didn’t want a reason to take you out somewhere alone. Not to try anything, of course, but he enjoys your company. There’s something about you that he finds addictive. 

He walks slowly up to you, wringing his hands a bit. He’s nervous that you’ll see right through him. When he gets close to you, still feeding the chickens, he notices something’s wrong. It’s your energy, you just seem down. Your shoulders sag, as though a weight presses down on you. He clears his throat, catching your attention. 

“You a’right?” he asks quietly. 

Your head snaps up and you look at him. Instantly, the sadness from your face flickers and is replaced by your soft smile. He can tell you’re faking it though. 

“Oh hi, Mr. Morgan. Yeah, I’m doing just fine. How are you?” 

“Just dandy. Hey listen, I was plannin’ on goin’ out huntin’, figured I could use a partner. You wanna come?” 

You pause for a moment. Arthur wants to take you hunting? Why? Sure, you’re familiar enough with a bow and a gun to use them, though the results aren’t always perfect. Maybe word’s gotten around camp that you were crying last night. You were just overwhelmed by everything and had to let it out. The mood still lingers. Arthur must be inviting you because he feels obligated to cheer you up. It doesn’t help you to feel better. It makes you feel like an even bigger burden since Arthur’s constantly bigger running jobs. Still, you have a hard time finding a reason to say no to him. 

“Sure, I’ll go hunting. I, uh, hope you don’t mind dragging me along.” 

Your choice of words catches him off guard. He’d heard nothing about you breaking down the night before but the dimness of your eyes and your words tells him how bad your state is. 

“Don’t mind at all. Would you wanna go now?” 

You look over at the setting sun. It’s nearly gone by this point. 

“Now?” you ask. “Wouldn’t it be better to go in the morning when it’s light?” 

He huffs a bit. “Well I suppose, if that’s what you want. Course I don’t mind spendin’ a night under the stars. But sure, we’ll leave in the morning.” 

You feel stupid all of a sudden. You’ve spent plenty of nights in the open, away from camp. It’s just harder to hunt at night. “Mr. Morgan, wait. Wait. I… Yes, we can leave now. I don’t know why I was being stupid.” 

He turns back around at your words. He smiles a bit. “Okay. I’ll uh meet ya by the horses. Five minutes?” 

You nod and finish feeding the chickens. You try clearing your head, especially the nasty thoughts swirling around. You don’t want to seem like a self-pitying fool around Arthur. You’ve been low-key flirting with him the past couple of weeks and he’s noticeably pulled away from you since. You didn’t want to give him another reason to run away. 

After gathering your things, you meet him by the horses and mount up. The two of you head out at a brisk trot. Arthur starts leading you north along the borders of Flat Iron Lake. You want to ask him where he’s thinking of hunting, but your current mood forces you to keep quiet. No one would want to hear you talk anyways. You start questioning why he even wanted to bring you out in the first place. The only thing you can come up with is that it’s because he’s a good man and he heard you were in need of a friendly face. It makes you feel like even more of a burden. 

On the northern side of Scarlett Meadows, Arthur pulls to a stop. The sun has set properly now and given way to a nearly full moon. He dismounts and the two of you set up camp. As you sit around the fire, waiting for your meat to finish cooking, he can tell by your eyes that you’re far away. He doubts you’re in a good place. It makes him want to put his arms around you and tell you all the things he feels about you, but he made a promise. He can’t tell you. 

“You uh want the tent tonight?” he asks. “I can sleep out here tonight.” 

“No, Mr. Morgan. It’s your tent, you should sleep in it.” 

He huffs and smiles a bit. “Ya can call me Arthur, miss. Ain’t exactly like we’re strangers.” 

You smile a bit. “Right, sorry.” 

He pulls the meat off the fire and gives you some to eat. When you’re done, he sits next to you. He feels like you just need a friend to help you out, yet he isn’t sure how to do it without admitting he’s got feelings for you. You yawn heavily. 

“You should get some sleep. I’ll stay up a bit, not quite tired yet.” 

Instead of agreeing and getting up to lie in your bedroll, you lean over and put your head on his shoulder. He stiffens up a bit at your touch but it’s such a welcome feeling, he can’t pull away. He realizes now that you, like everyone else in camp, have just been overworked and underappreciated in camp. This will be the best medicine for you, getting you away and just taking a break. He wonders again about the phrase “forests of West Elizabeth”. As he’s pondering, he’s also fighting with himself. Nothing would give him more pleasure than to wrap his arm around you or pull you in his lap and hold you against him and watch you sleep. He won’t do that though. He can’t do it. 

As he’s arguing with himself, he hears the softest snore come from you. He smiles when he realizes you’ve passed out on his shoulder. He gently picks you up and places you into hsi bedroll in the tent. He covers you with his blanket and then he sits back down by the fire. He smiles a little as he thinks about what could be between you if he were dumb enough to take that chance. 

***********************************************

In the morning, he notices you seem a little happier, a little more like yourself. Like you’ve finally been able to relax a bit and get a good sleep for the first time in days. You talk a bit more, yet he can tell you’re choosing your words carefully, which is unlike you. One of the things he admires about you is that you say what you think, even if it’s brutal. He knows he can trust what you say. 

You expect him to take you somewhere like the outskirts of Emerald Ranch where game is plentiful. Instead, he keeps leading you west, across the wide mouth of the Dakota River and into West Elizabeth. Seeing the tall pines and green grasses lifts your spirits greatly and you feel like you can take your first proper breath in weeks. 

Arthur can see the visible change in you, how your eyes begin to light up again. You smile more easily and start talking more. He notices you even make some of your light jokes. He’s always liked your jokes, cheesy as some of them are. You’ve got a natural sense of humor he finds endearing. He thinks to take you to Big Valley, but something tells him it’s not enough. He needs to take a bigger risk with you. 

After arriving at Lake Owanjilla, he pauses. He knows where he wants to take you, but it’s incredibly dangerous. Not because the land but because of where it lies. He just hopes that no one will see the pair of you and if they do, they won’t connect the dots. 

“Come on, we’re almost there,” he says and he kicks his horse into an easy trot. You follow him across the dam, down the trail and over the river. You wonder what he’s up to as you enter Tall Trees. You know the risks of going anywhere this close to Blackwater. Word is bounty hunters and Pinkertons have gathered here like flies to a rotting corpse. You want to tell him it’d be wiser to go back, but something tells you to not question him. That he knows what he’s doing. 

After a while longer, Arthur slows his horse down. You’re in the thick of Tall Trees, the pines growing high above your heads. The world has turned from green to red with speckles of blue and purple. You’ve always loved Tall Trees, the tall red pines and the green ferns growing between them. The smell is indescribable, addictive. Somewhere hidden in the trees, a squirrel begins to bark. 

Arthur looks back at you and grins. You don’t see him as you’re busy gazing at the trees. He can tell that this was exactly what you needed, despite the obvious dangers. He keeps leading you down the trail until the trees break and give way to a small lake nestled in the bowl of the mountains. This is where he finally stops and dismounts. You do as well, though you’re still staring around like a complete moron. You finally turn to him and give him a genuine smile, which makes his knees feel weak. 

“Arthur, this is beautiful. But… what are we doing here?” 

He shrugs his shoulders. “Just seemed like this would be a good place to come and… fish.” 

“Fish?” you giggle. “You came here to fish?” 

“Sure, why not? Hear there’s a real nice bass livin’ in this lake. Figure if anyone’s gonna catch him, might as well be me.” 

“Not if I catch him first!” you shoot and run towards the water. He calls to you and chases after you, the two of you laughing madly. You reach a broken pier first and pull out your rod. “Beat you, Arthur!” 

“Oh trust me, sweetheart, runnin’ ain’t fishin’. We’ll see in the end who’s the real winner.” 

The two of you cast out and slowly pull your lures back. With the sun beating down and the wind carrying the intoxicating smell of the forest, you couldn’t be happier. You can practically feel the black cloud that’s been hovering over you getting drawn out, like venom from a snake. 

Arthur’s line gets tugged hard and he yanks back his pole, setting the hook. “Ooh I got somethin’.” 

“Well pull it in, quick!” 

You watch him fight with the fish and then he pulls out a beautifully colored bass. You laugh and pat his shoulder. 

“He’s a beauty! Good catch, Arthur. Guess you won this round.” 

He chuckles and wraps the fish up before putting it into his satchel. “Yeah, guess I did.” 

For the next hour, the two of you fish a little more, bringing out multiple trout and bass. Then, just when you think the two of you might be able to get away with staying here for a long while, you hear, echoing across the water, voices. It sounds like a small group of men. Your heart drops at the thought of bounty hunters. There’s no doubt in your mind they might be scouring Tall Trees. It’s the perfect place for a gang to hide, after all. 

“Think we’ve outstayed our welcome,” Arthur says and collapses his pole. You do the same and then you both swiftly remount your horses and run off from the lake, avoiding the path. Over the next half hour, you dodge between trees and carefully navigate around the steep drops of the mountain until you hit the trail right above Owanjilla. There, you make your way across the river and into safe lands again. Arthur leads you over to the north end of the lake where he finally dismounts. 

“Well that was a fine outing, Mr. Morgan,” you say, patting your horse’s neck from the ground. 

“Sure. Well, figure we can hunt here the next couple of days. Know there’s plenty of game in Big Valley.” 

You nod and smile at him. “Yeah. But tell me: did you really take me there for a fish?” 

He blushes a bit and hides his head beneath his hat. “Well… well no. I known the fish was there a long time, but I didn’t go for it. I just thought you could use the fresh air.” 

This makes you laugh. “Arthur, I can get fresh air in plenty of places that have fewer risks.” 

He blushes more. “I know. But… well, I won’t lie to ya. I figured the place could do you some good. Heard you were tellin’ Karen you missed it and you seemed down the last couple of days. Just thought I might be able to help.” 

You smile at him, your eyes glittering. “Thank you, Arthur. You’ve no idea how much it helped.” You lean up and place a soft kiss to his cheek. He grins, his cheek burning. You look away and say you’re going to go and hunt. He lies by saying he’s going to try and fish a bit more. 

When you’re out of sight, Arthur sits down on a boulder. “What is the matter with me? Ya think a miserable outlaw like myself would learn. Morgan, you have the world’s best record of bein’ the biggest fool.” 

He sits there for some time, arguing with himself. He can’t love you, but he can’t help being in love. A voice in his head asks what’s the worst that could happen by just letting himself feel what he’s already feeling for you. He argues back by using Mary and Eliza as examples. 

“But she isn’t Eliza or Mary,” the voice says. “She’s Y/N and in completely different circumstances than they were. She knows how to protect herself, she’s been robbed and shot at before and came out alive in all those situations.”

“No no no,” he says. “She’ll come to realize I’m a fool like Mary did. I’ll mess things up and she’ll hate me for it.” 

“She already knows you’re a fool. She’s seen your crazy side, she knows how scary you can get. More than once, in fact, and she’s still around isn’t she? Mary saw that side one time and she ran off running. Y/N’s different. Never once has she asked you to change or to control yourself.” 

“It’s a dumb move!” Arthur says. “I ain’t in love with her nor am I ever gonna be in love with her! She deserves someone better.” 

The voice is a bit quieter this time. “It seems like it’s too late for her. You saw the way she looked at you in Tall Trees. She’s already got it for you.” 

“Well, she’s a bigger fool than I thought for doin’ that.” 

“No doubt. But if you leave her like this, she’s not going to wait around forever. She doesn’t deserve that either.” 

Arthur sighs. He knows you don’t deserve him playing you the way he’s been lately. “Well fine,” he says to the voice in his head. “I love her. I love Y/N, but I ain’t sayin’ it out loud.” 

********************************************

Night has fallen and you and Arthur are sat around the campfire again, nestled in Big Valley. You’re leaning your head against his shoulder once more like you did the night before. Arthur’s arguing with himself again. He knows he loves you but he’s still unsure if he should act on it. To act on it would be to admit it. 

“Arthur?” you say, breaking him out of his thoughts. 

“Hmm?” 

“Thank you again for today. I… can I tell you something?” 

“Of course.” 

“I’ve been real sad lately. Don’t know why, but my brain keeps telling me I’m a burden on everyone, I’m merely tolerated. But going back to that lake helped me feel centered again. Like going home. I know that doesn’t make any sense.” 

He smiles a bit. “No it makes perfect sense. And for the record: you ain’t a burden or tolerated. People in camp like you, darlin’. You should hear Jack tell his mama about your stories. Sounds like you been helpin’ Mary-Beth too. And you were the first person to get Karen to stop drinkin’ the other day. Can’t tell you how long we been tryin’ to help her quit.” 

“Really?” you ask, looking up at him. “And… and what about you? I know you only took me out today because you heard I needed a pick-me-up.” 

“No, no that ain’t the reason,” he says. “I didn’t know you needed help until we were away from camp. Like I said, you ain’t a burden. You work hard, I see that in camp. Work as hard as anyone else and eight times as much as Uncle.” 

You giggle a bit.

“Point is, me and everyone else who counts sees how much you work in camp. We notice. I know we don’t voice our appreciations, especially ol’ Grimshaw, but it doesn’t mean we don’t see it.” 

You surprise him by grabbing the hand on his knee and squeezing it lightly. He knows at this moment he can’t hold back any longer. He withdraws his hand and your heart sinks. You’ve crossed a line. You’re about to pull away from his shoulder until you feel him shifting himself and his hand winds over your hip. He pulls you into his lap and you settle your head on his chest. 

Arthur’s heart pounds hard in your ears. He’s wanted to do this for so long with you, imagined doing this. He’s held women like this to him before so he knows what it feels like, but this is different. You’re different. You fit against him like a puzzle piece, perfectly molded to him. You’re warm and it feels so good the way you wrap your arms around him. He kisses your hairline and settles his chin to your forehead. 

After a few moments, he feels you place a soft kiss to his chest. It makes him smile and he holds you tighter. 

“Arthur?” you say, looking up at him.

“Hmm?” 

“I think I love you,” you say quietly. 

He swallows heavily. “Well I hope so. Because… I know I love you.”


	70. "Mark me down as scared and horny"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hello! Would you be able to write about reader getting tired of Micah constantly hitting on/pestering her that she grabs him and throws him over her shoulder so hard he bounces. Anyone whos there to witness this is shocked meanwhile Arthur's just like "well mark me down as scared AND horny"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: slight mentions of smut, swearing, Micah

You have HAD it with Micah and his bullshut. He’s always been a nuisance, but for some reason after the events of Blackwater, he’s gotten worse. You’re not the only one he’s been busy harassing, but for some reason, he seems to enjoy bothering you the most. Maybe it’s because you’re the only unavailable woman in the camp. That is the only possible explanation you can think of anyways. 

He walks away from you, chuckling. He’d just been over to make more comments about you and you’d snapped at him. God, you’d like for nothing more than to put a bullet in his face, or perhaps bury your knee into his crotch. You’ve only held in your punches because there’s enough drama with the gang being on the run. 

As you throw your rag down from scrubbing Pearson’s table, you sigh and look up. Despite your irritation, you smile. Your boyfriend, Arthur Morgan, is walking towards you. He’s been gone for a few days, hiding from the Grays and Braithewaites. He’d burned the Gray’s tobacco fields and stolen the Braithewaite’s horses and it was decided that it’d be best if he stayed away from Rhodes while things were still hot. 

You would’ve gone with him, but when Dutch told him to head off for a while, you’d been scouting a job in town with Charles and hadn’t gotten the chance to go with him. It’s good to see him back. The two of you hooked up right before fleeing Horseshoe Overlook after having flirted and blushed around each other for weeks. Everyone was grateful when you two got together. Sean said it would be relief to not see the pining stares and the not-so-subtle flirting. Of course, now he complained that you two openly flirted and kissed in front of everyone. 

Arthur smiles when you look up at him. He plants his hands on the table and leans over, kissing you. 

“Mmm, good to see ya again, sweetheart,” he says. 

“I missed you.” 

“I know. I’m sorry I had to leave so soon. I woulda taken you with me and… well.” He grins and hides his eyes beneath his hat, his cheeks pink. 

"And what?" you push.

"I was, uh… maybe gonna… I don't know, I'm just being stupid." 

He turns to walk away and you stop him, already knowing what he was thinking. 

"Arthur, are you saying that if we'd been out, you would have tried to be romantic with me?" you giggle. The two of you have not had sex yet, though not for lack of desire. Hell, you've fantasized about it more than you'd care to admit, but neither of you have had much chance to go out of camp and do it. Arthur isn't fond of the idea of doing it in his tent, despite you sharing it. He doesn't like the idea of the others hearing.

A small huff escapes his lips. "Well, maybe I had something planned for us." 

You lean up and kiss him again. "You're so cute. I'm the luckiest girl in the world." 

"Oh my God," that voice that makes you grit your teeth comes floating over your heads again. "I don't know what's worse, Morgan. Seeing you smooch your girl all day or watching that new dog take his morning shit by the lake." 

"Shut your goddamn mouth, Micah," Arthur snaps. 

Micah snickers. "Always were so sensitive, tough guy, but no need to get so angry. I actually came over to talk to you about a job. Could use your girl, actually." 

"No," Arthur says, putting his hands on his hips. "She ain't getting involved in any of your jobs. They always come with a storm of bullets." 

"Arthur," you start. You're more than capable of defending yourself. He ignores you.

"I ain't letting her get shot because you turn yellow and go off again."

"Yellow? Well, for your information, this job don't involve no one getting shot." 

"Well what is it?" you interrupt before Arthur can say anything. 

Micah describes that he found a lead about robbing a house in Scarlett Meadows and how you could put on an act for the owners while he and Arthur rob it. 

“I think you should use the lost little girl act,” he finishes. 

“And why the lost little girl?” you retort. “Because women can’t put on any other act?” 

“Because it’s what people buy-” 

“Oh but if Hosea were doing it, he’d be pretending to sell something, not be this damsel in distress, am I right?” 

“I ain’t tellin’ you how to act, a’right? It was just a suggestion! Now are you two in or out?” 

Arthur looks at you and sighs. “Fine. But pull any bullshit, Micah, and we’re out.” 

“Trust me, Morgan, you’ll be thankin’ me. Word is this family is loaded.” 

He starts marching over to the horses. Arthur looks at you and sighs. “Well, I guess we can do this. But…” he pulls you close and whispers in your ear. “If he starts anything, you let me know.” 

“Arthur, I can handle myself. Trust me, you don’t have to be the big, tough, protective outlaw all the time.” 

Before he can say anything else, you follow Micah’s footsteps and mount up. The three of you ride off and soon you’re on the trail leading up to a large house. There’s a large stable behind it. You pull out your binoculars and peer at the house, spotting what looks like a mother and son sitting in chairs. 

The three of you discuss the best way to approach this and it’s decided that you should go up alone and pretend to be injured or lost. Or at least that’s Micah’s suggestion. 

“Look, why don’t I go up pretending to sell perfumes or women’s clothing? There’s a woman on that porch, you can’t tell me she wouldn’t appreciate a saleswoman.” 

Micah snorts. “Listen, sweetheart, women don’t go around selling things.” 

“Sweetheart?” you snap, your hands on your hips and glaring at him. 

Micah giggles. “Oh that’s right, only Morgan gets to call you that. But my point still stands: women don’t go around selling things to people. It just ain’t a lady thing.” 

You’ve finally had it with Micah. As much as you’d like stabbing or shooting him, you know Dutch wouldn’t appreciate it. Instead, you grab him around the waist, heave and throw him onto your shoulder. The movement is so quick, he can’t fight you off, tense up or do anything. As he yells out, he bounces on your shoulder. 

“I’m sick of your shit, you little bastard,” you snarl, walking him back to the horses. “We don’t need your help with this.” You toss him on the ground and rub your shoulder. “Arthur can rob the house just fine by himself while I go and distract the family whoever I damn well please.” 

“This is my show!” 

“Not anymore it ain’t. You ain’t allowed to play with the other kids until you learn how to get along with them. Now get the hell out of here.” 

“I-” Micah starts, but you whip out your gun and point it at your head. 

“I ain’t gonna tell you a second time, Mr. Bell.” 

Arthur just chuckles behind you as Micah stares at your gun. He glares up at you, but for once he makes the smart choice and gets up, mounts on his horse and rides away. You hear him mumble something but don’t catch any words. 

“There,” you say, holstering your gun. “Finally some peace and quiet. Well, Mr. Morgan, should we go rob these fools?” 

You turn around and see him staring at you, his eyes wide. 

“What?” you say. 

“Damn, sweetheart. That was… No offense, but I didn’t think you were that strong! I’m honestly a little nervous.” 

You blush and smile. “No offense taken, Arthur. Most people don’t know I can lift people up no problem.” 

“Well, I hope you don’t mind then, but… I think we need to hold off on robbin’ these folk.” 

“Why?” 

“I got another idea. C’mon.” He grabs your hand and runs off into the thick grove of trees nearby. There, he slams you against a tree and starts kissing and touching you. It doesn’t take long before the two of you are naked and you’re straddling him, taking the lead as you bounce on his lap. You show him your strength again by pinning his arms down and licking his neck. Although he doesn’t have a ton of experience with past sexual partners, he definitely won’t ever forget this encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is a writer's greatest source of nutrition! Don't let me starve!


	71. Young Arthur and reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hello! Could i request a drabble where orphan!reader gets picked up by the gang only after a few months Arthur does? He's like highkey jealous of the new golden child until she's in a bad situation to get hurt and he instantly goes protective, kinda ends up realizing she's part of his family too along the way. Also i send many praises your way ~ you're so talented and thank you for doing these requests!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: blood, violence

Arthur leans against the fence, glaring across the paddock at you. You’ve been a thorn in his side ever since you showed up four months ago. He used to think John was bad enough, but you… you’re worse.

Dutch and Hosea brought you in, covered in dirt and thin as a bone, but your pockets laden with stolen trinkets. You’d foolishly tried to rob Dutch himself, hoping to find something you could sell in order to get the day’s meal. Never before had you been caught stealing, but it was hard to fool a pro like Dutch. He instantly knew what you were up to, but he and Hosea saw your potential when they unloaded your pockets and saw all your ill-gotten gains. 

Over the next few months, Dutch and Hosea both taught you to read, Grimshaw taught you how to clean and Arthur was told to teach you how to use a gun, though he hated it. He couldn’t believe someone as old as you (though you were a few years younger than him and he was nearly twenty) could barely do anything. He’d heard the story that your parents died when you were very young, taken by yellow fever. After their deaths, you were sent to an orphanage but it was so overcrowded, filthy and miserable you ran away and lived on the streets where you were more likely to scrounge up a meal. Still, Arthur didn’t care for you. 

Hosea and Dutch boasted about you as you were eager to learn. You picked up reading and writing extremely fast and Grimshaw had no problem teaching you how to do the domestic work around camp. You liked doing them even, as they kept your hands busy (even though the work itself was dull). Arthur felt smug when you struggled to learn how to shoot a gun or skin an animal, ignoring the remarks by Hosea that he was more likely to blame for being a poor instructor. It was no secret Arthur was jealous.

But how could he not be? For years, it had been just him, Dutch and Hosea. They were the perfect trio and the two men were more like a family to him than he’d ever known before. When Grimshaw entered the picture, it didn’t change things much. In fact she was a bonus as she taught Arthur how to repair his clothes. But when John Marston came, that was when things turned. Dutch and Hosea rescued him when he was only 12 and standing on the gallows, a rope around his neck. 

John became the golden boy after that and Arthur felt he was pushed to the side. He tried time and again to gain his status back, to be the favorite boy. He just wanted the same attention he used to get instead of having most of the work thrown on his back. Sure, John learned the proper ways of being an outlaw, but Dutch and Hosea doted on him. Things went on this way for nearly four years and then you entered the picture. 

There’s been a lot of resentment Arthur holds towards you. Since he was a few years older and definitely looked like an adult, he was intimidating. Not only that, but he’s been running with the gang for most of his life. You, well, the easiest way to put it were a nobody. Just some orphan girl who could barely pick up a knife before you came here. And now here you are, raking in all the glory while he does all the work. 

He sighs, his eyes boring into you. You’ve been wise to avoid him the past couple of days, ever since the robbery. Hosea had taken you into town, targeting a rather rich man who would be easy to rob provided he had something to distract him. Hosea had gotten you to pretend to be his daughter and to have a fit. You’d played the part brilliantly and the man was too easy to rob, and the take was excellent. Arthur was supposed to go with him on that job, but he’d been out with Mary so Hosea took you instead. 

Arthur’s mood dips even further when he thinks about Mary. They’d had another big fight and he wasn’t too sure she’d contact him again this time. He loves her, but he isn’t too sure that feeling is reciprocated. A few weeks ago, they’d been out together and some man tried to pick a fight with Arthur. That was the first time Mary saw his outlaw side and it scared her how quickly Arthur drew out his gun and he hadn’t even flinched when he pulled the trigger. They’ve been fighting ever since. Part of him regrets giving her that ring last time he saw her. He felt he was making a commitment to her, but she might not be willing to do the same. He’s started to see how easily she plays him. 

A loud giggle draws him out of his mind again and he looks back up at you and Hosea. He doesn’t want to be here anymore, at this old house the gang has been occupying for the last few months. He goes over to his horse, his mind set on taking a ride and being gone for a few days. Maybe that’ll help him clear his head and he can get away from you. Just as he’s about to mount up, Hosea walks over with you in tow. 

“Arthur, where you going?”

“Just… around. Be back in a few days.” 

“Well, take Y/N with you.” 

“Why?” Arthur shoots back. 

You lower your head. You know he’s not fond of you. 

“Because she needs to learn how to survive out there. Teach her how to set up a campfire, go fishing, hunting. She needs the experience.” 

“Why can’t you or Dutch take her?” 

“Arthur, she’s your family too, whether you like it or not. Besides, me and Dutch might have something cooking up. Just take her and don’t get her lost!” 

Arthur groans but relents. Despite his annoyance, you flash a big grin at him and grab your horse. He doesn’t wait for you to get settled into the saddle before he’s running. Nothing has ever felt like a bigger weight than dragging you along. 

For the next few hours, he leads you on down south towards the San Luis River. He hopes you won’t complain about the heat, the bugs or the snakes. You don’t though. You try to pick up a conversation with him a few times, but when he doesn’t take, you settle for gazing at the surroundings. The sky is so beautiful down here, feeling somehow closer. 

Over the next several hours, Arthur continues further south and west, down below Tumbleweed even. You’ve never been this far out west, but you like it. The land is incredible, growing in strange, hot formations. The water from the distant river has a richer color than it does back east. 

Several times, Arthur tries to lose you. He just wants some peace and quiet, some room and space to think. Besides, if he really wanted to talk with someone, you’d be the last person he’d pick. Unfortunately, you stick to him as efficiently as a determined fly. He just can’t shake you off. 

By the end of the night, Arthur is more than irritated with you. He shows you how to pitch a tent and make a fire, but he grumbles the entire way through it and he doesn’t do a very thorough job. You feel you’ve learned nothing, but you know his patience is short enough as it is without you acting stupid, so you pretend to know what you’re doing. You lie down in your bedroll, your head sticking out enough so you can still see the stars. 

Arthur, lying in his own tent, continues to glare at you. You’re still young enough to retain your naivety towards the world, and part of him despises you for it. He’s started to see how ugly it all is, how ugly his way of life is. At least he can hold onto the smug thought that someday, in a couple of years or maybe even sooner, you’ll see it too. 

Halfway through the night, Arthur’s startled awake. He’s always been a light sleeper, and he’s even more so when sleeping out in the wilderness like this. You’d snored particularly hard and that was why he’d woken. He sighs heavily when you give another loud snore. Why did he get saddled with you? 

A horrible thought comes to him. What if he just ditched you? Hell, a couple of days on your own out here would do you some good. He’d come back for you of course, he’s not stupid enough to return to the gang without you. Hosea and Dutch would be furious. He won’t set that kind of example for the 12 year old John neither. After thinking on it for a while, he quietly collapses his tent and gets on his horse, riding away into the night. 

He doesn’t go far, of course. He’s not so cruel to leave you completely unattended, but he’s rather interested to see how you’ll handle yourself. Besides, it’ll distract him from Mary and maybe he’ll even get a good laugh. 

He settles himself far enough away that the only way to keep an eye on you is through his binoculars. You surely won’t be able to see him. He sets up his own tiny camp and sleeps a while longer. 

Hours pass and the sun rises, forcing you to wake. After rubbing your eyes, you look around to find Arthur’s things gone. The sight causes you to leap out of your tent. Did he abandon you? No, you think. Arthur may dislike you, but you refuse to think him cruel enough to do that. The only conclusion you can think of is that someone took him. However, after inspecting where his tent had been, you see no signs of another person or even an animal around. Everything you can see points to the fact that, at some point, he’d just gotten up and left. 

You sit down near the hot coals of what’s left of last night’s fire, place your elbows on your crossed legs and plop your chin on your hands. You’ve been trying so hard to stay out of Arthur’s way, to not give him a reason to hate you. It’s not your fault that Hosea and Dutch dote on you so much. Personally, sometimes it makes you a bit nervous, like they’re setting you up for when you finally mess up. But did Arthur really hate you enough to just leave you like this? Will he tell Dutch and Hosea that you drowned or ran off or something, give them some kind of excuse behind your absence? Probably. 

The thought of what lie Arthur might come up with sparks an anger you’ve never felt before. Dutch and Hosea took you in, offered to give you a new life with meaning to it. You’re not some orphaned kid living in the street like a rat anymore. You’re an outlaw, and outlaws are brave. You won’t give Arthur the satisfaction of knowing he bested you. Somehow, someway, you’ll find your way back to the gang’s hideout. You smile when you think of the shocked expression on Arthur’s face when you show up. 

After eating a tin of peaches, you clumsily pack up your tent and stuff it into your saddlebags, ignoring that a large section dangles out (you tried stuffing it in but it just wouldn’t fit). You kick dirt onto the coals, sufficiently dousing them and then you mount up, determined to head back home. Unfortunately (and under the watchful eyes of Arthur), you start heading east, but you’re not going far enough north. 

Arthur doesn’t stop you though. He follows you, constantly checking on your progress and chuckling to himself when you continue the wrong way. He’s provided another good laugh when you pull out the bow Dutch had bought you a few weeks back, but you’ve never used before. It’s clear you’ve never shot a bow before, Arthur watches you struggle to notch an arrow and then try shooting it at a grazing pronghorn. The arrow flies forward about five feet before it lands on the ground. The tip doesn’t even get buried in the sand. 

Several more times you try to shoot the arrow, but with little progress. You shoot on and on until the muscles in your arms and ribs throb painfully. Arthur only left you with a few cans of food and a bit of dried beef. Certainly not enough to allow you to survive a few days on your own. But you’ll manage. One of the benefits of being an orphan on the street was you learned how to go a day or two without food. It’s not fun, but you can do it. 

A few more hours pass and you’re miserable. Your stomach is growling, but you refuse to eat any of your precious reserves. The sun beats down hard and unrelenting, burning your arms. You’re grateful for your tattered hat as your head and face are spared. 

As the sun begins its slow descent in the sky, you come across a small lake. On the south end is an empty cabin. Perhaps you’ll have the good fortune of being able to stay there for the night. After setting up a good place to sleep in the cabin and unsaddling your horse, you take out your fishing pole. However, you don’t know the first thing about fishing and no one bothered to set it up before giving it to you. You know there’s some complicated knotting to it all, and that’s about it. 

As the sky grows a bit darker and you’re given a break from the unforgiving heat, you scour the land for any kind of edible plants. The problem is you really don’t know what’s safe to eat, or if some plants must be boiled or cooked before they’re safe. It’s all new territory for you. After finally crumbling and eating some of the dried beef, you go to bed, your stomach still demanding more food. 

Arthur chuckles to himself from the safety of his own camp, a rabbit cooking over the fire. You’re really out of your element here. Finally, there’s something he can boast about that you can’t do. Of course, he knows that if Dutch and Hosea ever find out, they’ll be furious, but Arthur’s sure you won’t ever tell them. Especially when he comes back to get you and you find out he was never far away. After eating, he lies down on his bedroll, his hands behind his head. He looks up at the stars, smiling a bit. Depending on how badly you do tomorrow, he’ll fetch you and bring you home. 

Morning comes once again and Arthur sits up. After clearing his eyes, he pulls out his binoculars and easily finds the cabin you spent the night in. Your horse is still where you left it, but there’s no sign of movement from the cabin. Figuring you’re just tired and hungry, he waits for you to come out. However, when midday comes and he still hasn’t seen you, he grows worried. After packing up his things, he rides to the lake. 

When he arrives, he pauses, listening, waiting. Still nothing. He puts his horse next to yours and inspects it. Your horse greets him with a soft whinny, but she’s clearly hungry in this tiny paddock with no food to browse on. Something’s wrong. You care about your horse more than anything, you’d never let her starve. He gives her a quick pat and then heads into the cabin, hoping you’re not sick or overly distraught. 

When he opens the door, his stomach plummets. The cabin is strewn with signs of a struggle, furniture toppled over. A table lies on its side, one leg splintered off. The mess looks fresh, like it happened within the past few hours. The bed in the corner shows signs of having been slept in. It takes him only a second to realize that sometime during the night, someone or maybe even a few people came in and kidnapped you. 

Arthur’s not a pro at tracking, especially people. That’s one of his weak spots, but he knows he has to do his best and find you.It’s not even the thought that Dutch and Hosea will kill him if he tells them, it’s that he never intended for you to get hurt during his little prank. He has to fix this.

*****************************************************  
You’re tied up to a post in the middle of a paddock, the sun unforgivingly beating down on you. Your throat cracks with nearly every breath, desperate for water. Your skin screams for shade and sweat glides down your back beneath your shirt. During the last hour, your head has started to pound. 

When you’d gotten to the cabin last night, you believed, based on the thick coating of dust on every surface, that it hadn’t been occupied in several months. However, shortly after you’d fallen asleep, three men broke into it and captured you. You tried giving them a hard fight, but as they were bigger than you (and there were more than you), it didn’t take them too much effort to subdue you. 

When they managed to get you tied up and thrown over the back of one of their horses, they discussed a little. You couldn’t really understand them, as two of them spoke quickly in Spanish. The third, although being a white man, also spoke their language, though his was more broken as though he didn’t quite have a handle on it. After a few minutes, they mounted up and rode off, leaving all your things behind. As they cantered away, your hat fell from your head. 

A few hours later, your gut heaving painfully from being thrown over the horse’s rear, the trio slowed down and you saw in the darkness a small house and a large barn with several paddocks outside of it. As the group approached the property, more men came out, speaking again in Spanish. A few of the white members traded some words in English and it became clear what they were going to do. They were going to try and sell you as you were still young and desirable to a great number of men. 

Your blood pumped hard in your ears and you tried to break free or squirm out of your bonds, but they were too tight. One of the men grabbed you and you began thrashing and screaming, kicking him several times in the thighs and stomach. 

“Este tiene una pelea en ella. Hagamos que tenga sed,” he said. The others chuckled and nodded their heads. 

The man carried you into one of the smaller paddocks that had a large pole staked into the sun-baked earth. The ropes around your hands were cut just long enough that he and one of his companions could swing your arms behind you and tie them back together. It became quickly clear that the only way to free yourself was to try and attract the attention of anyone who was nearby, so you started to scream. 

“Cállate!” one of the men yelled and held a knife to your throat as tears slid down your cheeks. 

“No, déjala gritar,” said a particularly tall man. You gathered from his stance and his dusty clothes that he might very well be the leader of these men. “Se cansará, y no hay nadie aquí para escucharla.” 

The man holding the knife to your throat backed off and they all went back into the house or the barn. You knew you only had a few hours until the sun rose, so your best bet at escaping was now while you still had the strength and energy. However, those hours slid by quickly, and you hadn’t gotten anywhere. You’d twisted your arms, rubbing your wrists raw, but the rope held tightly. You’d screamed, but just like the tall man had said (though you hadn’t understood him), you screamed yourself hoarse. 

This is where you are now, trapped, being forced to await your inevitable fate. Not once have any of the men come out to check on you. Occasionally one will come out of the barn or the house and go to the other building, or step over to the wall of a small plateau to take a piss, but none of them ever interact or even seem to take notice of you. Sometimes you’ll hear one of them yell from the buildings, but other than that, all is quiet. 

As the day wears on, you wonder what the hell they’re waiting for. If they intend to sell you, why don’t they just drag you away. You almost don’t care anymore, you just want to get out of this sun. 

At one point, a vulture soars overhead and lands ominously on the roof of the barn, peering down at you with a liquid black eye. He stays there for a long time too, almost as though waiting to see if you’ll die. You know you won’t though. Not today anyways. Despite this horrendous torture, you’re not so dehydrated as to expire. If you’re in this same state in two days, it will be different, but you’re not there yet. One of the men shouts loudly inside the barn and the vulture takes flight. 

Finally, gratefully, the sun dips down to the horizon. Your mind wanders back to Arthur and how he just left you. Even though you’ve every reason to, you don’t hate him. Sure, you’re angry and hurt that he just disappeared during the night, leaving you completely alone. You’d looked up to him during these past few weeks. Despite being only a few years older than you, he had so much more knowledge and he had such a cool, collected attitude that you admired. Not only that, but he was good looking, even though you know he’s involved with another girl. Still, as your burnt skin aches and your wrists crack with dried blood, you can’t hate him. Hell, you would’ve probably done the same thing were you in his shoes. 

Stars flicker in the sky above as the horizon grows darker. As the air cools, you feel a slight surge in energy and you try to wriggle yourself free again. While you squirm, you realize if you angle your right hand in a flat shape and don’t clench your hand or wrist, you might be able to slip free. You do so and your hand begins to slide out. The rope catches at the widest part of your hand where your thumb grows out of your hand, but you angle it in such a way that the rope continues up and over. Finally, your arms fall loose. You’re free. 

You fall onto your hands and knees for a moment. Your legs are exhausted from being forced into the crouched position for so long and your feet have gone numb. You give yourself one minute to recollect yourself, then you stand up and start walking to the fence farthest away from the barn. 

Just as you’re climbing the fence, the barn door opens and you hear someone yell at you. As quickly as you can manage, you start running, but the whole group is aware now. They charge after you and two of them swing lassos around you. A shrill scream leaves your throat as you fall to the ground, the ropes tightening around your elbows, pinning them to your body. 

“Ah, still have fight in you,” one of the men says in a thick accent. He chuckles beneath his thick mustache. 

The tall leader glares down at you with a nasty smile. “Átala de nuevo, pero hazlo mejor. Asegúrate de que no pueda escapar esta vez.” The others nod and agree. The leader bends his knees to look you in the eyes. “Try to escape again, we will show you what we will sell you for.” 

A sickening chuckle goes around the circle from all the men. You can do nothing but try and look angrily back at him, though you’re terrified. He smiles, puts a cigar in his throat, and beckons to the two men holding you with ropes. 

Just as they bend to pick you up, a deafening bang echoes not far off and one of the men’s heads shoots out a thick stream of blood. He stumbles and falls, but just as the others are turning to look at the source of his death, another one falls, clutching his neck. You hear a horse thundering towards you, roaring as your captors return fire. You can’t see who it is through the tangles of legs between you and your rescuer, but a spark of hope flickers in your chest. 

As more men topple, you get the urge to fight. You start kicking the men closest to you, knocking them down and making them easy targets. You smash your heel into the ankle of one of the men holding your ropes. He falls and you climb onto him, slamming your fist into his face over and over. 

Just as the last of the men fall, you’re suddenly yanked from the man you’re beating. A thick arm goes around your neck and the barrel of a pistol gets shoved to your temple. 

“Drop your gun!” the tall man says. “You want her dead?” 

This is the first time you’ve been given the chance to look at your savior and your eyes land on Arthur. He looks angry and worried at the same time, his pistol pointed at the man. 

“Let her go,” he tells the man, who just chuckles. 

“I have the upper hand, chico. I make the rules. You want her alive? Drop your gun!”

Arthur complies and throws down his gun. The man’s finger fiddles a bit with the trigger and he laughs again.

“Good. I’ll give it to you, hijo. You can shoot real well. If it wasn’t my men dead, I’d invite you to my gang.” 

“And what gang is that?” he snarls. 

“Del Lobos, chico. I know you’ve heard of us.” 

Of course, the Del Lobos. The gang made of Mexicans and Californians looking to seize power after they themselves were stripped of their own. Honestly you’re surprised it’s taken you this long to run into them. Seems that most people who live south of Blackwater have dealt with them. Arthur’s eyes betray that he’s certainly heard of them. 

“Just let her go, buddy. She ain’t done nothin’ to you.” 

“Why she so important?” the tall man demands.

“Because… she’s my family. I just want to bring her home.” 

The tall man makes a mocking, simpering sound and then laughs again. “So sweet. Familia. Greatest strength there is, and yet the greatest weapon. But… I don’t want to let her go. She’s… how you say… valiosa. People pay lots of money.” 

Arthur’s eyes narrow. You know he won’t have any chance to save you if you just stand here and let yourself be a damsel in distress. Before Arthur has the chance to respond, you pick up your foot and slam it against the man’s shin. His hold on you loosens and his gun points up in the air as he cries out in surprise and pain. 

“Maldita sea!” he yells and Arthur takes the distraction, pulling out a knife and throwing it. His aim is true and the knife plunges into the man’s eye, throwing his head back as you duck and break out of his grip. 

When the man falls, gurgling as he dies, you look at Arthur, breathing heavily. He picks up his pistol and holsters it. Then, with a guilty expression, he looks at you. 

“Are… are you okay?” 

“Yeah, no thanks to you I might add.” 

He swallows. “I’m sorry. I didn’t really leave. I had my eye on you the whole time. Well, most of the time anyways. Thought.... Thought it might be interestin’ to see how you faired on your own.” 

“So me getting kidnapped, beaten and threatened to be sold was interesting to you, was it?” you snarl, your anger picking up. 

“No, it wasn’t. I didn’t think this would happen. Here.” From his satchel he pulls out a waterskin, handing it to you. You snatch it from him and drink greedily. While you’re drinking, he goes over to the man’s corpse and pulls out his knife, wiping it clean on the man’s clothes. 

Once you’ve had your fill of water, you hand Arthur his waterskin back and look around. By his horse you see yours not far behind. “Thanks for… for getting her. Saves me the trouble of having to track her down.” 

Arthur just grunts in response. “Well come on. Think we’ve had enough of an adventure.” 

The two of you mount up and begin riding off. As you leave the property of dead men behind, Arthur turns to you. 

“You aren’t going to tell Dutch and Hosea about this, are you?” 

How dare he ask you this? You nearly died back there, and if you hadn’t been killed and if Arthur hadn’t showed up, you’d have lost your freedom. 

Arthur looks at you with a sad expression. “I’m really sorry about all this. I… I don’t know why I thought leaving you alone out here was a good idea. Guess… with the way Dutch and Hosea talk about ya, it’s like you can’t do nothing wrong. Maybe I just wanted to prove I was better at somethin’ than you.” 

“Better at something?” you say. “Arthur, I’ve been idolizing just about everything you do for weeks now! I can barely hold a gun while you just shot like eight guys on your own back there. You can do a million things I can’t, and even the stuff I can do, you can do better.”

He sighs and looks ahead. “Don’t seem that way with how they talk about ya.” 

“Arthur, I don’t want to be the golden child in the gang, I really don’t. But I can’t control how they act over me. But… I won’t tell them about this.” 

He visibly relaxes and thanks you. 

“But can I ask,” you say, “why did you go to all this trouble to save me? It would’ve been easy enough to go home and tell the others that I’d just run off or something like that.” 

He sighs. “Because that wouldn’t be right. I… I couldn’t let you be killed by those men if I knew I could do something about it. I already have enough sins to carry, I don’t need to add your death to that list. Besides, you’re… you’re my family, miss. You, Dutch, Hosea, Susan… John. You’re my family. Sure, we ain’t always gonna get along, but no family does. Besides, I’d rather have you part of it than not.” 

You smile at him, your heart flooding with warmth and affection. That was the first time you felt something for him that was more than just admiration or idolization. 

You sit now on the bed, Arthur sleeping next to you. You’ve been dating him for a few months now, but it’s hard to think that you’ve known the outlaw for nearly twenty years. They haven’t been easy either, secretly being in love with him and watching him prance after Mary, finding out about Eliza and his son Isaac and then their deaths. 

Arthur’s grown remarkably since you were captured by the Del Lobos, and not just physically. He developed an extremely strong sense of loyalty towards Dutch, Hosea, you and even John, though he was badly hurt when John disappeared for a year after Jack was born. The gang’s grown remarkably since too, adding over a dozen more people. 

Arthur stirs awake beside you, rolling over to expose his strong chest. You smile when he looks up at you and sighs sleepily. 

“What you doin’?” he groans. 

“Just writing,” you say, closing your journal. Another habit you picked up from him. He puts his hand on your back and you lay down, plopping your head onto his chest after kissing his neck. He sighs again, his arm settling over you. 

“What you writin’ about?” 

“Nothing much. But you remember that first camping trip we took?” 

Arthur groans and chuckles a bit. “Oh God. That was awful. I don’t know why you liked me so much. I was the biggest ass.” 

“Maybe. But I thought you were cool. And maybe I kinda wanted to be like you.” 

“At least you were nice enough never to tell Dutch and Hosea.” 

You chuckle and slide your hand over his, which is resting on his stomach. You place a soft kiss over his heart and settle down to get some sleep. 

“Do you have to do this job in Blackwater tomorrow?” you ask. 

“Darlin’, I told ya. Hosea and I ain’t doin’ the ferry job. We’re just goin’ to town, gonna try workin’ on that real estate scam and keep an eye on things while Dutch and the others work on the boat.” 

“Mmm, good. Somethin’ doesn’t feel right about this job,” you say. “Just… promise me you’ll come home safe?” 

You look up at him. He can’t help but melt at your large eyes. He kisses your forehead. “I promise, sweetheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is my bread and butter! If it wasn't for all the comments I've received, I'da stopped writing months ago. Help keep me going!


	72. The surprise - modern AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hii [...] I've always wanted to request something from you! How about modern AU, Arthur surprises reader with a horse she's been really eyeing for a while? Maybe it doubles as a cute proposal? (and just for reference, a gorgeous golden Palomino Quarter Horse!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings except for pure fluff, kiddos! I thrive on fluffy stuff!

Arthur stands on the deck of his house, lost in thought. He really should be in the barn, finishing up the last of the day’s work, but he’s worried. You should’ve been home half an hour ago and yet he still hasn’t heard from you. He’s texted you, but nothing. Maybe you’re just stuck in traffic. 

You and Arthur have lived together for over a year, and been dating for over two years. He remembers how he convinced you to move in with him, as you’d been adamant. Hell, it’d been hard enough to get you to date him. 

When you both first met, it was like a spark between you. However, you were scared of taking the next step with him, as you were just a natural loner. Not only that, you’d been alone for so long you didn’t think there would be anyone who wanted to be with you. So when Arthur asked you to be his girlfriend, you almost ran off, sure he was pulling your leg. However, something told you that you needed to be brave, to take the leap, so you did. 

About 8 months later, Arthur really wanted you to move in with him on his little ranch, tucked in a canyon not too far from a small mountain town. But again, you were hesitant. It’s not that you didn’t love him, just the opposite in fact. You were so in love, you were constantly terrified that you’d mess up, that he’d end up hating you when you ended up living together. The last thing you wanted was to mess this up. 

Then, shortly after your first year anniversary, the Coronavirus pandemic hit and everyone was sent into quarantine. Luckily you were able to work remotely, so you didn’t lose much money. It was nice working from home, you could stay in your pj’s all day, not worry about makeup, none of that stuff. But you missed seeing your boyfriend and he missed you. The two of you did plenty of video chats, but it wasn’t the same. You couldn’t smell him, hug him, touch him, kiss him… nothing. You tried doing some video sex, but you got outrageously uncomfortable doing it over video chat (what if some hacker got in?), and Arthur wasn’t all that comfortable either. 

Those 60 days were some of the longest and loneliest of your life. You would’ve easily gone to his home and see you, but his little town wanted absolutely no outsiders to come in, so they blocked the roads, preventing you and Arthur from visiting. When quarantine was lifted, that was when you decided to move in with Arthur. After all, you didn’t know if there would be another one. You could work remotely, only having to go into the office a couple times a month for meetings, so the work situation with you was easy enough. 

That was over a year ago, and despite your fears that the two of you would end up breaking up after a few months, the opposite happened. Your relationship grew beyond what you thought and the two of you have never been more in love. Sure, there’s been a few arguments, but nothing bad enough to break things off. For the most part, you and Arthur get along famously. 

Arthur sighs again, still feeling worried. Today was one of the days you had to go into the office for meetings. They never run past five, and the office is nearly an hour away, but it’s nearly eight in the evening. You should definitely be home by now. You must be stuck in traffic, which is why you’ve not answered any of his texts. He pulls out his phone and dials your number. Why he didn’t do this earlier is beyond him. 

A few rings go by and you finally pick up. “Hey, babe,” you say. 

He smiles. “Hey, darlin’. Just worried about ya. Everything okay?” 

“Yeah. Just a big accident on the freeway. I stopped and got dinner too since it’s late. Should be home in like ten minutes.” 

“Good. Kiss ya when I see ya,” he says and hangs up. That’s always how he says good bye to you over the phone and you love it. 

Like clockwork, ten minutes go by and you pull into the driveway. He walks out of the house to greet you, pulling you into a tight hug and kissing you like he always does. He wants to tell you so badly what he’s got planned, but it’s gotta be a surprise. Under no circumstance can he spoil it. Not like this. 

After dinner, the two of you cuddle up on the couch and watch a show before going to bed. He can tell you’re exhausted. These meeting days are your least favorite and they always wipe you out. Arthur cradles your head to his chest as you lie in bed. Within seconds, he hears you snore softly, making him smile. He goes back to thinking about tomorrow. 

Arthur’s owned this ranch for most of his life. It wasn’t always his though. He grew up here with his adopted fathers, Hosea and Dutch. However, Hosea was killed very suddenly a few years ago in a car crash after he’d been hit by a drunk driver. His death had been so sudden that it hit Dutch extremely hard. Dutch ended up just vanishing one day, driven by grief and confusion. Arthur hasn’t seen him since. 

The ranch fell into his hands after Dutch disappeared. He secretly hopes that maybe Dutch will come back someday, if he’s still alive that is. He’d love you two to meet, as he’s sure Dutch would like you better than his last serious girlfriend Mary. 

His thoughts drift to her and he feels even more nervous. He’d been engaged to her for three months before she’d broken it off. She claimed it was because she hated his location, that she wanted to live in the city, not some small mountain town where everything was far away. Perhaps that was true, but he suspected there was more to it than that. After all, when Mary’s father discovered that Arthur had two fathers, he was extremely upset that Mary was dating someone raised by homosexuals. He’s always suspected that her father had a big reason behind why they broke up. Not only that, but he wonders if she was seeing a guy on the side. How could she go from being engaged to being in a new relationship only three weeks after they broke up? Good riddance, though, he thinks. He loves you a hundred times more than he ever loved her. 

You’ve never cared about his upbringing, stating that Hosea and Dutch were at least good parents to him. You’ve known far too many heterosexual parents who were awful, and how many gay couples are out there who’d love to have kids and be the best parents. You weren’t in contact with your parents anymore (he still didn’t even know what they look like), so they aren’t an issue. 

Arthur starts thinking about how sad and lonely your life has been. How you spent so many years alone and how you believed you’d die alone. He’s so grateful for having met you. You don’t deserve to die alone, you’re too good of a person. He kisses your head as you sleep, overwhelmed with his sense of love for you. A smile makes its way to his lips as he thinks about tomorrow. 

Over the past year, as you’ve grown more comfortable to ranch life, you’ve been thinking about maybe getting your own horse. Arthur has a few that you’re certainly welcome to, of course, but you’ve been wanting one to call your own for a while now. A few weeks ago, you’d both been in town to go to the one grocery store there. As the truck went down the highway and passed another ranch, you saw the signs “horses for sale”. In the pasture was a beautiful palomino quarter horse. It looked like it was made of gold as it grazed in the sun. You begged Arthur to stop the truck and just go see the horse. 

He pulled over, unable to resist your excitement, and you went to the fence. The palomino, along with most of its pasture mates, came over to investigate you and Arthur. You patted her nose and Arthur could tell you were already in love with her. However, he had no idea what her temperament was like, so he came up with a plan. 

On the days when you had to go to meetings, Arthur went to the horse’s owner to ask questions and get acquainted with the horse. She was young, only three, but the owner had raised her and trained her himself. He invited Arthur to go on a trail ride using her so he could see how good of a riding horse she was. After only twenty minutes on her, Arthur knew she was perfect for you. She responded to his lightest touch and command. After the trail ride, Arthur bought her, but he kept her at her former owners so you wouldn’t see her too soon. 

Yesterday, while you’d been gone, Arthur went and picked the horse up and brought her back. She didn’t have a name yet, but he wanted you to have that privilege. The man who raised her called her Sierra, but he knew that was your mother’s name and you were unlikely to keep it as you had no desire to see her for as long as he’s known you. He struggles to fall asleep, feeling like a kid on Christmas, excited to show you his gift. He’s also terrified as he’s going to use the horse as a segway for the biggest decision of his life. 

************************************************

The next morning, Arthur gets up much earlier than usual. He’s normally up a bit past sunrise so he can feed the animals and get an earlier start on cleaning before it gets hot. This morning, though, you wake up at the crack of dawn and find his side of the bed empty. After grabbing a cup of coffee, you go out and find him just finishing feeding the chickens. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says, a big grin on his face. 

You say good morning and he comes over, leaning across the fence so he can kiss you. 

“Hey, I got a couple more chores to do, but once they’re done, I got somethin’ to show ya.” 

“Okay, I’ll help. What needs to be done?” 

He smiles, loving how willing you always are to help him out. It makes his life a lot easier. He struggles though, as most of the remaining chores were in the stables with the horses, including yours. 

“Um… well, why don’t you go through the chicken coop, see about eggs.” 

You nod and go off to grab the collecting basket. Arthur asks you to finish feeding the chickens as well so he can go into the stable. After collecting nearly a dozen eggs and placing them in the egg storage so they can be sold this weekend, you brush off your hands and start heading into the stables. Arthur darts out, slightly sweaty from his work. 

“Woo, it’s hot. Hey baby, um, maybe you can go get us some drinks?” he says. His tone is weird, like he’s hiding something. 

“Um… okay. Everything okay?” 

“Everythin’s just fine.” He kisses you again real quick and then shoots back into the stables. 

After retrieving two beer bottles, you go out to find Arthur in the paddock, which is attached to the right side of the barn so the horses can go in and out of their stalls. He’s wringing his gloved hands a bit, but smiles when he sees you. What is going on with him? 

“Thanks, darlin’,” he says when you go into the pen and hand him his beer. Instead of opening it, he places it onto a post of the fence. “I wanted to show you somethin’.” 

He looks to the barn and whistles. Odd, he’s looking at one of the stalls that’s been empty the entire time you’ve lived here. Something snorts and out walks the golden horse you’d been admiring for the past few weeks. You gasp and put your hands over your mouth. 

“Arthur, is that…?” 

“She’s yours, sweetheart. I took her for a ride a while ago, she’s a good horse.” 

The filly walks over to you and snorts in greeting, stretching her neck out to bump her nose to your hand. Tears leak out of your eyes as you start rubbing her neck, going down to her withers. 

“Arthur, she’s beautiful!” 

He chuckles softly and walks over to hug you, grinning as you bury your face into his chest. God, you couldn’t ask for a sweeter boyfriend. 

“Thank you so much, Arthur! I love her.” 

“Good. What’s her name?” 

“Did she not have one before?” 

He tells you what her name used to be, but as he predicted, you don’t like it. You think for a moment, studying her golden coat. She swishes her silver tail. 

“Maybe… Freyja? I know you like having names of gods and goddesses for your horses.” 

Arthur chuckles as he thinks about his two favorite horses, Boadicea and Artemis. “If that’s what you want, darlin’. She’s your horse though, you name her whatever feels right.” 

You look at her and smile. “Freyja feels right.” 

Freyja snorts, not giving a single damn about her name. Her eyes are soft as you pat her neck again. 

“Well, why don’t we groom miss Freyja? Maybe you can ride her around the pasture, see how you like her.” 

You nod and go into the stables to grab a brush and hoof pick. Freyja’s very patient as you groom her, standing still as you clean out her feet. Arthur hauls out the heavy saddle after you throw on her saddle blanket and grab her bridle. After cinching on the saddle and adjusting the stirrups, Arthur says, “Oh I forgot somethin’, hold on.” 

He goes into the stables as you pat the horse’s neck again, anxious to hop into the saddle. He comes back out, empty handed and looking frustrated. 

“I thought I left it in there,” he grunts, coming back over to you. 

“What you looking for?” 

“A thing,” he says, ignoring you and shoving his hand into the saddle bag. “I thought I left it… ah ha! Don’t know how it got in there.” 

He pulls his hand out and you see a small, velvety box. He brushes it off quickly and then holds it out to you. 

“Sweetheart, I uh… I been thinking about doin’ this for a while. It would… it would mean a lot to me.” 

You take the box, your stomach clenching. Is this a ring? Or is it something else and you’re just being hopeful? Your heart pounding in your ears, you open the box and see the ring. You gasp. It’s not a diamond, you always hated diamonds. Too common and overpriced. Instead, it’s a silver band, the metal engraved with fancy, swooping curls, a gem in your favorite color perched on top. 

“Arthur?” you say, your voice squeaking as you take out the ring. 

He clasps your hands in his, the ring nestled in your palm. “I wanna marry ya, sweetheart. You… well, you’re more than I could ever hope for in a companion. I never thought I’d wanna marry someone again after Mary…” he looks down and swallows. You know all about her of course. “But that was until I fell in love with you. There’s no doubt in my mind that I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.” 

Fresh tears are cascading down your cheeks. You look at the ring again and Arthur’s suddenly afraid you’ll say no, or that you’re not ready. He worries that he might have to try and talk you into this like he had when he wanted to date you and then have you move in. He doesn’t want to do that with this though. Just as his stomach begins to sink, you smile up at him. 

“Yes, Arthur. I will marry you, a thousand times.” 

He smiles, swallowing a wave of his own tears and cups your cheek. He takes the ring and slides it onto your finger, then he presses his forehead to yours. For several moments, you both stand there in this position, letting the world go by as you bask in one another’s presence. You slide a hand over his neck, wanting to be even closer to him, your future husband. 

Suddenly something shoves your shoulder hard and it’s followed by a loud snort. Arthur chuckles, pulling away from you. “Think Freyja wants your attention again.” 

You laugh and kiss him before facing your horse and climbing into the saddle (with his help of course). You adjust yourself in the saddle, sliding both feet into the stirrups. Arthur pats your thigh and tells you to just walk around the pen so that you and Freyja can get acquainted with the feel of one another. 

As Arthur watches you walk with your horse, he feels a sense of excitement and contentment. Excited for the future, of course, but he’s never been so sure about anything as he is about this. Marrying you is the only thing he could do, he’s never wanted anything more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is the most nutritious source in order to keep a writer thriving, don't let me (or other authors you like) starve!


	73. "I'm an ugly old outlaw"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: i’m so excited your inbox is open!!😁😁can i request an arthur x fem!reader where he’s insisting he’s “an ugly, old outlaw” and all that bs and she gets really emotional and gives this speech on how handsome (adorable) and loyal and caring he is? basically just tooth-rotting fluff😊😊love your work!!🤍

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: tooth rotting fluff

You stand on the edge of Horseshoe Overlook, repeater in hand, waiting for an improbable attack. Of course, you can’t be entirely sure there won’t be one. Arthur mentioned a couple days ago running into some Pinkertons while he was out fishing with Jack. Something tells you that if they found this place, they’d have no problems marching in. 

An hour later, the sun’s beginning its slow descent into the sky and you hear something: a horse coming down the path. Just as you lean around a tree to see who it is, Arthur comes into view. 

“Oh hey, Arthur!” you say excitedly. Not only does he carry heavy weight in camp, he’s one of the nicest men you’ve ever met (despite being an outlaw), and he’s also the man you’re in love with. You haven’t had the courage to tell him this, the thought alone terrifies you. 

He gives you an adorable “gun” finger salute as he trots past, but you notice his eyes don’t crinkle the way they do when he smiles, almost like he’s faking it. He goes on towards the camp and you follow him, wondering if something’s wrong. 

When you get to camp, you ask Karen to take guard duty for now, explaining you’ll make up for it later. She accepts, saying you owe her a whiskey, to which you agree. Arthur dismounts his horse, feeding her a treat. You hear him say, “rest now, girl. You did good.” God, he’s so cute the way he talks to his horse. 

He continues on towards his tent and young Jack crosses his path as he walks. “Hiya, Uncle Arthur!” 

“Hey there, Jack. You keepin’ safe?” Arthur’s been worried about him ever since he ran into the Pinkertons. Of course, Arthur’s always been protective. 

“Yeah.”

“You still reading with Hosea?” 

“Yeah! He read me a story about a prince! I did a page all by myself!” 

“That’s excellent, son! Good for you!” 

Jack skips off and Arthur continues on towards his tented wagon, his shoulders rolling as he walks. You melt at the exchange he had with Jack. He is the most adorable, gentle man you’ve met. How is it that he’s a wanted man? 

Arthur shuffles around his wagon a bit, adjusting some things on his little table. Then he grabs the flaps of the canvas and pulls them down, clearly wanting some privacy. 

Silently, you go over to his tent and peak in. The sight breaks your heart. He’s sitting on the cot, hunched over, his hands clasped together as his elbows rest on his thighs. You can tell he’s upset about something. 

“Mr. Morgan?” you ask. 

He looks up and clears his face. “Oh, hey there, Y/N. What can I do for ya?” 

“Nothing. I just wanted to check on you. I was… I guess worried. You okay?” 

He smiles a little, huffing a bit. “Oh I’m doin’ just fine.” 

You can tell he’s lying, and you’re nervous to stay any longer. It’s clear he wants to be alone. However, you swallow your fear and walk into the tent. 

“Can I ask what’s wrong, Mr. Morgan? Whenever I have something weighing heavy on my mind, I find it’s helpful to tell someone.” 

“Oh trust me, no one wants to hear about my problems. I’m just… just a sad, miserable ol’ outlaw.” 

Your heart feels like it’s going to break. How can he think such awful things about himself when every time you see him, he’s doing something good to those around him? Bringing Mary-Beth a pen, reading stories to Jack, giving that one-armed man in Valentine money. Every time you’re with him, he proves the exact opposite of what he’s saying now.

“You… don’t really think that’s true, do you, Mr. Morgan?” 

“Oh trust me, I ain’t sayin’ bad enough about myself. I’m… a no-good killer, a fighter. And uh, just a bad man.” 

A tear slides down your cheek and you go sit down next to him. “Mr. Morgan, forgive me, but that’s not what I see. Every time you’re around, I see you helping folk, making people smile. I see you doing too much good to believe that a bad man is all you are.” 

“You don’t know me very well, Y/N. Hell, you only been with us a few months. Wait a few years, you’ll be sayin’ somethin’ different.” 

“I don’t think so. If anything, I’ll probably be sayin’ even nicer things about you. And honestly, Mr. Morgan, I’ve never lied to you. I ain’t startin’ now.” 

“Trust me, you won’t. No one does, everyone who spends any length of time with me knows how horrible I am.” 

“I’ve spent plenty of time with you,” you say. “I don’t think you’re horrible. Sure, you’ve made some bad choices, but who hasn’t? I… I’ve made choices that I regret too. But you can’t look at the world with people split in two based on good and bad. People are complicated. You’re complicated. That’s how the world is, and you ain’t doin’ yourself any favors by seeing it that way.” 

He sighs heavily, looking away from you. He doesn’t speak for a few moments and when he finally does open his mouth, you’re sure he’s about to tell you to leave him alone. 

“To be honest, Y/N, I really am a bad man. The only thing I’m good for is fightin’. All I ever been good at.” 

“Mr. Morgan, can I ask who told you this?” 

“No one told me, Y/N. I… I always known. And the other night, robbin’ that train full o’ city folk. Well, I robbed and beaten plenty of people before, they was really no different. But… I was over near Strawberry earlier. Some guy challenged me to a race. Guess he just bought a new horse, wanted to show off. Anyways, ol’ Artemis and I gave him a run for his money. I won, of course.” He scratches his chin. “When that other bastard got there, he was real angry. So angry he shot his horse in the head, so I shot him. Don’t quite know why I did neither. When…. When I shot him, I realized I felt nothin’. Not joy, not regret. Just nothin’.” 

“Maybe because there was nothing to feel, Mr. Morgan. After all, a man who can so easily shoot his new horse he was so proud of moments ago cannot be much of a man at all. Perhaps… perhaps you killing him was a good thing.” 

“How do you mean?” he asks. He finally turns to you, his blue eyes searching yours. 

“Well, if he can so easily shoot a horse in that fashion, something tells me he doesn’t know how to rein in his anger, that he lets it get the better of him. Who knows? Maybe he was constantly hurting his wife or kids if he had them. Maybe you killing them will send them relief, freedom. That’s the way I have to see the world, Mr. Morgan, that our bad deeds have a positive effect somewhere in the world.” 

Arthur grunts a bit. “Maybe. But… but I’m still nothin’ more than a fighter.” 

“No you’re not. Forgive me, Mr. Morgan, but I’ve been watching you probably more than you think. You’re a good man, a wanderer, a hunter. An artist too I bet.” 

“How do you figure that?” He cocks his eyebrow a bit, staring at you from the side of his eye. Part of you thinks he’s on the verge of smiling, which encourages you. 

“I’ve seen you sitting on the edge of camp, writing and doodling in that journal of yours. John told me Dutch taught the two of you to draw, but it didn’t take with him.” 

“Hmm, a lot of things didn’t take with that boy.” 

You giggle, but don’t really want to lead this conversation into a heated discussion about John Marston and his flaws. “I bet you’re good though. Could… I mean, would you hate me for asking if I could see your drawings?” 

You are extremely doubtful that he’d give you that privilege. After all, you and Mary-Beth talked about journaling and she mentioned how Arthur is notorious for it, but how no one has ever seen the inside of his. However, Arthur surprises you by sighing heavily and taking his journal out. He flips through it quickly, finding a page that has a drawing of a large wolf on it. He hands you the book, though he seems nervous. 

Gently, you take it from him and inspect the drawing. It’s beautiful, professional even. You can so easily see the textures of the wolf’s fur, the bristles of the pines behind it. It’d be impossible to not admire the strokes put down, each one with their own intention and purpose. 

“Mr. Morgan, this is incredible. I knew you were an artist, but I didn’t think you were this good.” 

“Oh nonsense. Anyone can draw like this. Hell, I bet you ain’t that bad of an artist yourself.” 

It’s your turn to raise your brow. “You wanna bet? Give me your pencil.” 

He hands it to you and, in the lower right corner, you draw a small version of his wolf, which is far more than laughable. You’ve never been very good at drawing, but even this version is pathetic. After a few minutes, you hand him back his journal. 

“There. Now your wolf has a badly deformed companion.” 

Arthur takes one look at it and then he lets out a laugh. “I like it,” he says after a moment, his eyes meeting yours. This time, his eyes crinkle. 

You can’t help but giggle. “I’m glad you like it, Mr. Morgan.” 

Still grinning, he straightens up a bit. “Why you always callin’ me Mr. Morgan? You can call me Arthur on occasion, you know.” 

“Oh I… I know,” you say, looking down at your lap, your cheeks burning. “I… I don’t know why I do.” 

He admires your features for a moment. Arthur knows you’re sweet on him. He clued into it pretty quick when he first asked you to call him by his first name weeks ago and you refused. Then he heard Tilly and Mary-Beth joking about how they knew. He also noticed you did things for him no one else did: bringing him coffee in the morning, offering to clean his guns, how he was the only person you asked to teach you how to play poker and black jack. Other small things you did only for him. It didn’t take long for him to realize he felt something for you too.

He finds your behavior now endearing and you’ve helped cheer him up immensely. He grabs your hand and lifts it, placing a soft kiss to the back of it, which causes you to look up at him. 

“Thank you, Y/N,” he says. 

You’re blushing hard again. “You’re welcome. Arthur.” 

Just as he’s about to lean over to try and place a kiss to your lips, Grimshaw’s shrill voice carries across camp. 

“Where the hell is Y/N?! That damn girl, always disappearing! I swear when I find her…” 

“Shit,” you say and quickly yank your hands out of Arthur’s grasp and then darting outside to subdue Grimshaw. 

Arthur chuckles, his heart much lighter than it was before. He looks down at his journal, finding your poor rendition of a wolf. Little do you know that it brings him great comfort and always will. In the future, when things go bad, he opens to this page just to look at it, to remember the things you said. It’s a moment he’ll never be able to forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you read, tell me. Didn't like what you read? Tell Me!


	74. Raising a child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: can you write arthur and his s/o taking care of their child while in camp pls, just a bunch of fluff

Clemens Point. Hot, humid, but at least the lake offers a reprieve. You sit at the base of a big tree, a book in hand as your daughter Laura plays in the water. She's only three, and she flings the water particularly hard, making herself squeal. 

"Mama!" she giggles. 

"Was that fun?" you say with a smile. 

She runs back up the shore towards you, her underclothes soaked. As she walks a bit clumsily towards you, she looks up and her eyes widen. 

"Papa!" You turn and see Arthur walking up to your spot, a big smile on his face. 

"There she is! Hi, sweetheart." He picks her up and hugs her. When you stand up, he folds an arm around you and gives you a big kiss. You pull away, happy to see him. He’s been gone a few days after he and Hosea went and sold the Braithwaite’s moonshine at the Gray’s saloon and got chased out of town by the Lemoyne Raiders. You’ve been worried about him, but Hosea said everything went fine. 

“Hmm, I missed you, Arthur.” 

“I know, darlin’. I wanted to come home, but had to lie low for a while.”

Laura pats his chest, wanting his attention. He turns to her and rubs noses with her. 

“Papa, the doggy licked me!”

“Oh, he did, huh? You like that dog, huh?” 

Laura starts going off on a tangent, but you and Arthur can only make out a few words throughout. Arthur just smiles and chuckles a bit.

“Well, sounds like you had quite a day.” He puts her down and she waddles off, giggling. 

You smile and hug Arthur, laying your head on his chest as he wraps his arms around you. Arthur is truly an exemplary father. The best, in fact. When you got pregnant with Laura, you’d been a little afraid to tell him because you know this life shortens longevity. Hell, it was no life for a kid to live either. You’d seen how difficult it was juggling Jack sometimes, and to be honest, you were afraid that Arthur might react the way John did. 

However, that was not the case when you finally told him. You’d been almost two months pregnant and knew that in a few weeks, you’d begin to show. There was no way you could hide your baby bump. Not only that, but most of the gang was starting to catch on to your weird behaviors, including Arthur. You’d been trembling when you told him, but when you finally got the words out, Arthur had gone pale. As you prepared for him to tell you there was no way it was his or something worse, he pulled you into a hug, tears in his eyes. He said it was the greatest gift you could ever give him. 

You knew about Isaac and Eliza, of course. You’d known shortly after the two of you got together, so you knew his fears about being a father a second time. He was extremely protective when you were pregnant, to the point he could be a nuisance, and when you finally went into labor, he didn’t leave your side for a second. He stayed by your side, letting you try to break his hand. When Grimshaw showed him Laura, he openly cried. You still remember the peace in his eyes as he held her for the first time. 

As Laura grew older, Arthur became an even better father. Of course, the two of you spent many sleepless nights together, trying to get her to quiet down when she was still a baby. When she got old enough to sit up, Arthur would hold her on his lap and read snippets of his journal to her and show her his drawings. He still does that, and it’s one of your favorite things to see him do. He’s already told you when she’s old enough, he’s going to teach her to ride a horse. 

You and Arthur have already discussed possibly leaving the gang to give Laura a safer life, but the opportunity has never come. These past few months have been particularly hard on the both of you, but Arthur’s been so careful and mindful of her, never once did you worry about Laura’s wellbeing. Well, except for up in Colter shortly after the gang fled Blackwater. 

You’d been helping Abigail with John after Arthur and Javier brought him back, half dead from a wolf attack and the cold. Arthur was out with Charles hunting for food and you let Laura out of your sight for one second. That was all that was needed though, and she vanished. You panicked and by the time Arthur returned, you were hysterical. He tracked her down and found that Micah had taken her, claiming he just thought she could use a walk. 

“She’s three years old, you goddamn bastard!” Arthur had roared. “You don’t take a three year old out in four feet of snow!” 

Micah started to argue with him, which resulted in Arthur putting a bullet in his head. Dutch was angry, of course, but Arthur wasn’t going to let anyone who was a threat to his girl stay in camp. No one seemed to mind that Micah wasn’t around anymore though. 

You look up at Arthur, knowing how stressful everything has been on him since Blackwater. Having a child has been hard too, but he says it’s actually been good for him. It helps him center himself and gives him an even greater reason to come back to camp, even when things get bad. 

He looks down at you and smiles. “She been good while I been gone?” 

“Of course. She and Sean even found a dead rabbit, but he told her this cute little story and she wasn’t so sad.” 

“Hmm, I got a lot of things to say about Sean, but at least he has some redemptive qualities,” Arthur says before kissing your head. 

When night falls and the three of you have eaten dinner, Arthur sits on the log near the fire with Laura on his knee. She’s clearly tired, resting her head on his chest with her eyes closed. A moment of silence falls around those sitting at the fire, and then Arthur speaks up. 

“I know I been… kinda hard on all of you. I just… I’m scared. Scared that we might not all make it. Times are tough. For all of us. And because of that, I been hard on you. But just know that I’m sorry, a’right? I’m sorry. I want everyone to come through to the end of it. But… I’m so thankful for you all. I couldn’t ask for a better family to help me take care of my little girl. She… she means the world to me, and I know I can’t always be around to take care of her. So thank you, all of you, for helping step into my shoes. This life ain’t a good life for kids, but you’ve all helped me make it work.” 

You smile and grab his free hand, squeezing it. Sure, you’d love to retire the outlaw life, find a home to settle into. That’s unlikely to ever happen though, and you feel the same way as Arthur about everyone else helping out. 

When most of the gang decides to turn in for the night, you snuggle into Arthur’s cot, packed up against him. Laura has her own little cot near the table under the canvas. You look up at Arthur and kiss him. 

“Arthur. I just wanted to tell you that… well, I love you so much. I couldn’t ask for a better man, or a better father for Laura.” 

He smiles and kisses you back. “Trust me, darlin’, I’m far from perfect.” 

“I don’t want you perfect. I want you, exactly as you are.” 

He smiles and pulls your head down to his chest so he can hold you close. You slip your hand just under his shirt to rub his bare skin, knowing he likes the physical touch. His fingertips draw patterns into your back, and that, along with the steady thumping of his heart, lull you to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly welcomed! I love talking to readers! Don't feel shy to say anything.


	75. Pregnancy - modern AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hey!! Can I request some fluff with Arthur (modern au) he finds out his s/o is pregnant please!! Thanks 😍

You stand alone in the aisle of the store, torn. You’re scared, anxious, and somewhat embarrassed. In front of you stands the shelves, part of the pharmaceutical area. The boxes you’re looking at hold pregnancy tests. Should you get them? Part of you wonders if you’re just going through a weird hormonal phase. You’ve had them in the past, but none of them were like this. 

Over the past couple of weeks, you’ve been having weird things happen. Getting incredibly nauseous throughout random periods of the day, you’re getting tired even when you haven’t done anything. Certain parts of your body have started to become tender and even firmer. 

After Googling your symptoms, everything you found said possible pregnancy. You even took this one survey that was very interactive and asked a lot of questions. One of them was “have you been sexually active within the past month?”. Well, of course you have. You’ve been dating your boyfriend Arthur for over a year. However, that test said 93% likelihood of pregnancy. When you took the test again but lied when it asked about sexual activity, it came up with some bullshit that didn’t make sense to you. Now, the only thing you have left to do to be sure is buy one of these stupid urine tests. 

You grab a box of 12, hoping no one is around to see. You shouldn’t feel ashamed for doing this, yet you do. A result of your childhood, of course. You were raised to think that a couple who had a baby outside the bonds of marriage were idiots, harlots, uncommittable morons who were dooming any baby to a lifeload of problems. As an adult though, you’ve managed to train yourself to think differently, especially now that you aren’t very close to your religious nuts who call themselves your parents. Still, that fear is there that others will think those things of you. 

Quickly, you buy the box and stuff them into a grocery bag, ignoring that it’s a single item that you could easily carry in your hand. Still, you want to hide it. When you get to yours and Arthur’s house, you stuff the box into a cupboard where you keep your other feminine items. Arthur definitely won’t look for anything in there, he knows what’s in there. You don’t take one out though. You’re not ready. 

When Arthur comes home, he can tell something’s off. He usually works from home as he’s a rancher, but today he had to make a run to town to sell some of his goods from the one grocery store in the tiny town. He actually makes some pretty fair money and he’s never bored. 

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asks as he tries to cuddle with you on the couch while you both watch a movie. 

“Y-yeah,” you say nervously. You’ve been dreading the thought of telling him. Never have you discussed with him his opinions on having kids outside of marriage before. 

“You sure? You look kinda… darlin’, you gettin’ sick?” 

You shake your head. “No. At least I don’t think so. Arthur, I… I need to tell you something. Please don’t be angry.” 

“Sweetheart, you know I could never be angry with you.” 

You smile, loving how he can be an extremely rough man. Hell, you remember the fight he got in. It was when you were still living in that horrible apartment complex when you and Arthur first hooked up. Your neighbor was always kind of creepy, making inappropriate comments about you when the two of you passed. One time, he’d done that when Arthur was with you and Arthur got pissed. He’d started yelling at the man, but your neighbor got right up in his face. It didn’t take long for Arthur to punch him. One hit was all it took to put your neighbor in his place, but it was only a couple of weeks after that when Arthur asked you to move in, worried about your safety. 

“Okay,” you say and sit up. You grab one of his hands and place it on your thigh. “Arthur, I… I’ve been going through some kind of weird change and I did a little research. I think I…. I…” 

A tear slides down your cheek. Arthur looks worried and he reaches up to wipe it away, his thumb gently tracing your skin. 

“It’s okay, darlin’. You can tell me anything.” 

You swallow. How the hell could this happen? You and Arthur have been so careful when you’ve had sex in the past. You’re on birth control and he’s always used protection. Then, as though the answer is painfully obvious, you remember that one day when you’d forgotten to take your pill and been in the shower. Arthur joined you and one thing led to another. 

You shake your head, trying to clear it. “Arthur… I think I’m pregnant.” 

His hand on your face freezes. Shit, shit, shit. His eyes have widened and his face is pale, his mouth in a hard line. Fuck, why did you have to tell him? Well, how could you not have though? More tears spill out of your eyes as you think that he’s going to end things right here and now. Your mind starts reeling with what you’re going to do after all this. 

Just as you’re on the brink of completely breaking down, Arthur grabs you and pulls you close, burying your face into his chest. You realize from the sound of his breathing and sniffling that he’s crying too. 

“Oh my God, darlin’. I couldn’t be happier. Were you scared to tell me?” 

You look up and rub your eye, trying to dry it. You nod. 

“Oh, darlin’. I never want ya to be scared of tellin’ me anythin’.” He kisses your head, his hand rubbing your back as you sob into his shirt. He lets you cry as much as you need to, intermixing his soft kisses by telling you everything’s going to be fine. 

Finally when you’ve calmed down, Arthur pulls you away slightly so he can look you in the face. 

“So… do you know for sure?” he asks. 

“No. I’ve only Googled my symptoms. I bought some tests but… I haven’t taken any yet.” 

“Well, come on then. Go take one. I’ll be here with ya every step, okay?” 

“Arthur, one isn’t going to do it. Sometimes you get duds.” 

“I know, but just take one. You can do more over the next couple of days. But only take them when I’m here, okay? I wanna be with you for this.” 

Great, now you feel like crying again. God, if you’d known he was going to be this sweet and supportive, you could’ve saved yourself a lot of stress. He pats your back, so you get up and go take a test. The box says to wait three minutes, so while it sits Arthur pulls you into a tight hug and sets a timer on his phone. When it goes off, you look at the label on the test. 

Two stripes. Positive. 

You sigh and put your face back into his chest. 

“Arthur, what am I gonna tell my parents?” you say, wanting to relieve more of the stress this thing is causing. 

He rubs your lower back. “We’ll cross that bridge in a bit, darlin’.”

“They’re gonna be pissed when we finally tell ‘em,” you say. “They’re probably going to pressure us to get married. I’m not telling you to try and pressure you into it, I’m just warning you.” 

He smiles and kisses your head. He doesn’t say anything because the truth is he’s been thinking about asking you to marry him anyways, but he wants it to be a surprise. Of course, the baby complicates things because he knows you’ll probably think he’s only doing it because of the baby. 

“Darlin’, don’t worry about them. You’re an adult, and so am I. They can’t make our decisions for us, and it ain’t their right to tell us how to live. That’s all you gotta say to them. And I know your mother. She’ll be excited for a grandkid.” 

You giggle. “Yeah, as long as she doesn’t ask me to move back in just so she can keep it for herself.” Your mom’s obsessed with kids, so you know that at least your parents won’t end up disowning you for having this baby. 

“Yeah well, you’re mine and so’s this.” He puts his hand on your stomach. “Ain’t no one takin’ my family away from me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think of my work. Think there's room to improve? Tell me!


	76. Comforting Arthur after Mary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: what abt one where you try to console Arthur after his breakup from Mary and one thing leads to another

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: smut

Arthur’s been in his room for a while. Too long in your opinion and you’re beginning to worry. He was out in Saint Denis all yesterday and this morning, but when he came back about an hour ago, he was unusually distant. Sure, Arthur’s not a talker, but he almost always wanders camp, chipping into conversations and he always comes to see you. Not today though. Something’s wrong. 

You’ve been trying to sneak into the big manor for some time to go and talk to him. After all, you’re his best friend (and you’re secretly in love with him). If anyone’s going to coax him to talk about what’s bothering him, you can. However, you’re pretty much being kept prisoner to this damn crate by Grimshaw. She’s mad because you spent a week straight out with Arthur, wandering from Strawberry to Annesburg. It doesn’t even matter to her that you both came laden with pelts, meat, provisions and even a few hundred bucks to contribute to camp. She says you should’ve been helping around camp with the other girls. Whenever you’ve tried sneaking away, she’s swooped down on you like a massive hawk on an unsuspecting squirrel. 

However, when Arthur came back, Karen saw how desperately you wanted to go see him. She knew something was wrong too. She was already nearly a bottle down on whiskey, so she did you the favor of getting herself even more drunk. You’ve been watching her. Grimshaw gets incredibly angry when Karen is drunk. As she drinks more and more, getting deeper in, Grimshaw marches over. 

“What the hell you doin’, girl? You’re supposed to be workin’, not drinkin’ enough to sink a saloon!”

“Ah, shut up, you old bat!” Karen hollers back. 

The two quickly descend into a heated argument, giving you the opportunity to sneak away and into the house. As you scurry off, you swear Karen gives you a wink, but maybe she’s so drunk that she can’t operate her eyelids properly anymore. Hard to tell. 

Finally, you get to the second floor without any problems. Slowly, you open the door to Arthur’s room. He’s lying on his back in the bed, an arm draped over his eyes. 

“Arthur?” you say quietly. 

He lifts his head and spots you. His face falls more, but he sits up. “Hey, Y/N.” 

“You okay? You seem down.” 

You take a seat next to him on the bed. He clasps his hands between his knees, his elbows on his thighs, but his eyes are planted on the ground. 

“What happened?” 

He sighs. “Not really much of anything, but… God, I’m such a damn fool.” 

You hesitate, dying to comfort him. You’ve been friends for years and you’ve had a crush on him for ages. You can’t even name how many nights you’ve pretended to be enfolded in his arms, and how many nights you’ve touched yourself, pretending it was him. Hell, you’ve even called out his name. Slowly, you reach over and grab his hand. He looks up at you, surprised. 

“Arthur, you’re not a fool. You’re smart, brave, funny. I’ve seen you take pity on people, even when they haven’t deserved it. Please, tell me what happened.” 

He sighs and squeezes your hand. “I, uh, went and saw Mary. She wrote to me again.” 

“Mary? I thought she wouldn’t contact you again again after you got her brother back?” 

You knew all about that of course. You were the only one Arthur confided that into. One of the benefits of being such close friends for so many years. 

“I didn’t either, but she did. Said she wanted to see me again.” 

“And what did she want this time? She need you to go scare some other people again?” 

He sighs and you can’t tell if he’s smiling as his face is still pointed to the floor. “Yes. Guess her daddy was provin’ once again how much he don’t care for his family. He sold her mother’s broach so I went and got it back. Then, she had the nerve to ask me to go to a show.” 

“She asked you out on a date? I thought you two weren’t sweet on another?” You fail to hide the pain from your voice. 

“I didn’t think we were, or she was anyways. I… like I said, I’m a damn fool. When I’m not around her, I don’t really want nothin’ to do with her. Mostly because I…” he pauses and squeezes your hand again. “But when I’m around her, it’s like I can’t really control myself. She knows exactly how to play and manipulate me. So yeah, I went on a date with her. Whole thing felt wrong. And then… she asked me to run away with her.” 

Your heart drops. Shit, is he only here to collect his things and then disappear with her? The thought breaks your heart. You know exactly how much you’ve come to depend on him and it scares you that he would so easily and willingly abandon the gang and you. It hurts too. Can you tell him the truth? 

“So… you’re just here to gather your things, I’m guessing?” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. 

He looks up at you finally. “Course not. I have people to take care of. I… I told her I had someone waitin’ for me.” 

Your stomach suddenly becomes alive with butterflies. “And what did she say?” 

He sighs again and looks back at the floor. “She didn’t take it too well. She… she called me some bad things. Was convinced that I lied to her, played her.” 

“Well that’s rich, coming from her!” 

He huffs a small laugh. “That’s what I told her. Only made her more mad though. She started sayin’ the same ol’ bullshit, that she shoulda had my hung a long time ago, that she should turn me in now.” 

“She wouldn’t, would she?” 

He huffs again. “She said that all the time when we was datin’ as kids. It was all garnish though, never had any weight to it. I expect it’s the same now. She only says it because she’s mad and wanted to… well, convince me to do things her way.” 

You smile and squeeze his hand again. “Well, if anyone’s the fool, Arthur, she is.” 

“Oh she definitely is a fool, mostly for putin’ in good years on a no-good outlaw.” 

You frown a bit. “Arthur, I’ve been with you for a few years now. I don’t think I’ve invested my time unwisely.” 

“Then maybe you’re a fool too. You’d be a lot smarter to stay away from me, darlin’. I ain’t no good. I ain’t got much good in me.” 

You can tell Arthur needs a morale boost, but you’re not quite sure what to say. Suddenly a thought strikes you. 

“Arthur… can I do something? I wanna show you what I feel about you. And, well, considering you and Mary dated for so long, something tells me she never did anything like this for you.” 

He looks up at you. “What you talkin’ about?” 

You smile and slide off the bed, going to your knees and placing yourself in front of him. Your hand goes up to cup his cheek. You rub his stubbled jaw for a moment, his eyes sparkling with… what is that? Excitement? Finally you lean in and kiss his lips. Oh God, how you’ve wanted to do this for so long. He doesn’t pull away, instead his hand plants on the back of your neck. His mouth moves with yours and his warm breath washes over your face. 

After a moment, you pull away. “Arthur,” you whisper, “let me show you how I feel about you.” 

“What do you mean?” 

You smile. “Like I said, let me show you.” 

He gives you a stiff nod and you smile, going back in for another kiss. As you do, your hands go to work on his shirt, undoing his buttons. Your lips follow your fingers, tracing his naked skin as you work your way downwards. Damn, he’s good looking, with hair in just the right places. You saw him shirtless once when he was bathing in a river, but you weren’t close enough then to truly appreciate his body. His built, but not overbuilt. 

Finally you get to his pants. He’s breathing hard and you can see him straining against his jeans. As you’re undoing his gunbelt, he groans. 

“God, darlin’.” 

This urges you on and you quickly unbutton his pants and reach a hand in to stroke him. Damn, he is firm. You feel a familiar pulsing between your own legs, so you pull him out and stare shamelessly at his cock. He’s thick, a long vein running down his entire length. You start pumping him, slowly, and watching him grow even more. He groans again and leans back, planting his hands on the bed. 

You’re filled with an urge to pleasure him. He needs the release. This poor man has been working so hard with so little thanks. He’s more than earned this. You look up at him and his eyes are closed as your hands work. 

“Arthur, I want you to look at me,” you say. His head tips forward and his eyes open. When you’ve got his attention again, you smile. 

After pumping him two more times, you slowly dip down towards his cock. You run your tongue from the base of his length all the way down to his head. He shivers beneath you, a hiss escaping his lips. His cock pulses hot and hard. You wrap your lips around his head and begin sucking, tickling just the tip. His hips buck a little, but you can tell he’s trying so hard to control himself. Slowly, you slip more of him into your mouth. He’s beginning to pant as you bob against him. 

“Oh my God,” he groans, making you smile. You pull him from your mouth with a small pop and then you stand up. His eyes find yours with a silent plea, begging you to continue. 

“Don’t worry, Mr. Morgan. I’m gonna take good care of you.” 

You quickly take off your clothes, but make sure to give him a show. A few moments later, you’re standing stark naked in front of him, letting his eyes rake over your body. You grab his shoulder and guide him to lie down on the bed before sliding your leg over him to straddle his hips. His cock’s still standing, eager for your center. 

You grab his length once more and give it a few pumps, bringing it back to full erection once more. Then, you angle him towards your slit and then sit down on his hips. It’s your turn to groan as his cock spreads your walls. His hands go to your hips and squeeze, then they slide up to grab your breasts. You put your hands on his and begin thrusting your hips, your eyes meeting his. His cheeks are flushed pink, like your own, but his eyes are glued to yours. 

You bounce on his hips, trying to bring him to his release, which he so badly needs. He’s panting beneath you, which says that he’s close. His own hips are thrusting up into your pelvis, burying his cock deeper into you. He suddenly brushes your spot, making you gasp. This seems to encourage him as he bucks harder, brushing it more and more. You start to pant on top of him. 

Without warning, Arthur suddenly grabs you, flips you onto your back and plows right back into you. He pumps himself hard against you, making the whole bed move. God, you hope no one can hear this, but you kind of don’t care. He takes your right knee and brings it up, wrapping your leg around him to give him a better angle. His cock goes even deeper into you and he starts kissing your neck. You can feel your own orgasm beginning to peak, but you want to chase his. He’s more than earned it. 

As he’s plowing into you, he starts losing his rhythm. He groans into your neck. 

“I want ya to cum to me, darlin’,” he growls in your ears. 

“Arthur,” you pant. “This… this is about you. Don’t… worry about… me.” 

He smiles and kisses your lips. “God I been wantin’ to do this so long.” His hand glides down your body and down to your slit. You want him to touch you there but know he shouldn’t. Just as you’re about to say something, his fingers brush over your clit. This makes you tilt your head back, groaning as your hips angle up into him. 

With his fingers stroking your clit and his cock brushing on your spot, it only takes seconds before your back arches, your toes curl and your fingers dig into his back. 

“Arthur!” you yelp as your orgasm rips through your body. He sucks on your neck and his fingers continue stroking your clit, prolonging your release. Your center pulses around his cock, almost painfully so. You haven’t orgasmed with a man inside you in many years. 

As you pulse around him, he groans and pushes harder into you. As you settle down beneath him, he suddenly thrusts the hardest he’s done and then he quickly pulls out. Just in time as his cock releases his spend, spreading over your stomach. He grunts loudly as he releases, but then he opens his eyes and looks down at you, covered in his juices. 

“Sorry, darlin’,” he grunts. He bends down and grabs a cloth, cleaning you up. 

“I ain’t complaining, Arthur. That was… damn. I’m gonna admit something: I’ve imagined doing this with you but I never thought it could be that good.” 

He chuckles, throwing the cloth across the room. “I doubt that, darlin’. I’m very out of practice.” 

“As am I, Arthur, so it works out. Maybe you and I… can make this a regular thing?” 

He smiles and bends down to kiss you again. “I’d like that. Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love talking to my readers! Please don't feel like I won't read or care about your comments, because I promise I do. I want to hear from you!


	77. Arthur's obvious crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Could you do one where Arthur has an obvious crush on the reader and the girls at camp notice so they tease you about it?

Arthur leans against one of the wagons, cigarette in hand. He lifts it up to take a smoke, watching as you walk past on the other side of camp. His free hand is looped around his belt, watching you unashamedly. Normally he wouldn’t be so open about watching you like this, but he thinks he’s alone. 

He’s had a crush on you for a few weeks now. You were brought into the gang a few months back and you and Arthur hit it off almost immediately, becoming fast friends. You weren’t sure what to think of him at first, but you thought he was a good man and a quick gun to have around if you needed it. You eventually grew to find you loved him, though you were too nervous to do anything about it. 

He didn’t feel anything romantic towards you for a long time either. That was until he got in a gunfight with a couple of O’Driscolls. You happened to be there too, and even though he killed most of them, you got one or two of them. However, Arthur didn’t leave the fight unscathed. He’d been grazed just above the elbow by a bullet. You immediately started to treat him, going on and on about how the wound could get infected and he could lose the arm. He kept saying you were being ridiculous and to stop making a fuss, but he secretly loved it. Your touch was so delicate and smooth he wouldn’t forget it ever. 

After that, something changed between the two of you. You didn’t act any differently, but Arthur started to. He started getting more eager to see you after being gone for days, wanted to take you out on jobs more often, just sit and talk to you. Then after a couple of weeks, he grew very distant and almost cold towards you. This hurt because you’d become very good friends and even trusted each other. You’d no idea why he did it, but it was because he was scared he might ruin things with his affections. So he figured the best thing to do was distance himself. 

That didn’t work though as he just couldn’t control himself around you. He kept approaching you, talking to you. By this time too everyone knew you were one of his preferred accomplices in jobs so they often volunteered you. Especially Hosea. He knew your feelings about Arthur as he was one of the few you’d confided in. He also thought you and Arthur would be perfect for eachother, you had habits and behaviors that suited one another, and you seemed to help keep Arthur calm and cool (though you could be quick and fiery too when needed). 

When distancing didn’t work, Arthur decided to try and go back to just being friends, but this had drawbacks too. He could control himself even less and by this time, many of the others were beginning to notice. Up in Colter, he had to endure a lot of teasing from Lenny, Bill and John (though he was quite laid up). Arthur had been wanting to get you alone to try and perhaps cuddle with you, so he made up a whole bunch of excuses in front of the others, like maybe you’d want to help him make a fire in a different building, there wasn’t enough space in the building you were in with the others, that he could use a hunting party. All of these excuses were picked up easily by the other girls, but Grimshaw prevented you from going with him. The ultimate blocker, ol’ Grimshaw. 

When the gang got down to Horseshoe Overlook and things settled down, the girls started to giggle when they saw Arthur trying to flirt with you, and you being completely oblivious. You didn’t pick up on it because you were trying to deny your own feelings for him and firmly believed that a man such as Arthur would have any interest in you. 

Arthur lowers his cigarette, a light smile on his lips as he blows out. He can’t keep his mind from drifting off to the last outing he had with you. He’d taken you to Valentine, bought you a nice meal and a few supplies from the store, then the two of you robbed the doctor who happened to be running an outlet for O’Driscolls. 

You go and sit on a crate near the wagons that provide shelters for the other girls during the night. Humming, you take out your needle and thread and begin stitching up one of Sean’s shirt after he’d fallen and ripped the sleeve. 

You hear people walking over and muffled giggling. Looking up, you smile at Mary-Beth, Karen and Tilly. Mary-Beth and Tilly try settling down, though they slip and giggle a couple times. Karen puts her hands on her hips and grins down at you. 

“What?” you demand.

They all giggle and sit down on the other crates, pretending to be working to appease Grimshaw. Still giggling, they all look up at you. 

“What’s so funny?” you say. Shit, they aren’t laughing about your fabulous cooking mishap from last night still, are they? You’d been helping Pearson by cutting up potatoes for the stew. Arthur had walked past and given you his adorable finger gun wave, which caused you to forget that you hadn’t cut up the potato you had in hand and tossed it whole into the pot. Pearson saw it and immediately chewed you out, making you fish it out. Your arm soaked in the heavily salted liquids, your face flushed, Arthur headed back over to you to talk a bit. Not wanting to look like an idiot, you threw the potato behind you, effectively hitting poor Kieran in the head as he fed the chickens, and hid your arm behind you so Arthur wouldn’t see how much of a mess you were. 

“Please don’t bring the stew thing up again,” you plead, rolling your eyes. 

“Oh, you know we will,” Karen says heartily. “But we ain’t here to rib you about that.” 

You sigh. “What? Did I do something else stupid?” 

Tilly giggles, but it’s Mary-Beth who speaks. “Oh, Y/N, nothin’ like that. It’s just… you two would be so cute together!” 

“Who you talkin’ about?” 

“You and Arthur,” Tilly says. “Everyone knows the two of you like each other.” 

You feel your stomach clench a bit. Okay maybe you haven’t exactly been subtle in your flirting, but he certainly has not reciprocated that.

“It… it ain’t like that, girls. He’s just a nice man.” 

“A nice man?” Karen says. “Okay, sure, Arthur’s got a soft side, but I wouldn’t exactly categorize him as a nice man. Nah, I reckon he’s sweet on you.” 

“No, he’s not,” you say, getting frustrated. You wish they’d stop, it’s only going to get your hopes up. 

“Fine, let us show you then,” Karen goes on. “Ladies, go to work.” 

You have no idea what she means as she gestures to Tilly and Mary-Beth. They giggle, then collect themselves, then Tilly turns to Mary-Beth and asks her about the latest book she’s been reading. Mary-Beth goes on about how it’s a romance and the way she tells it, it sounds very cheesy and predictable. They don’t bother keeping their voices down, which doesn’t bother you. 

When you peak up at them, still sewing Sean’s shirt, you see Arthur walking over. This makes you nervous. How will the girls react to him being close to you? Of course, Arthur’s very curious and likes to know what’s going on in the gang, so him being attracted to the conversation isn’t anything unusual. He stops and leans against the pole that holds up the canvas over your heads, his hands gripping his belt, a soft smile on his lips. God, why does he have to look so good in front of you like this? Can’t he do it when you can be alone and feast your eyes on him? 

“Oh Lord,” Tilly says when Mary-Beth finishes talking about the book. “That sounds completely ridiculous.” 

“Oh it is! But I love it,” Mary-Beth says breathily. 

“Could… could I maybe read it?” Tilly asks. 

The two smile at each other and then glance at Arthur. “We ain’t botherin’ you, are we, Mr. Morgan?” 

“Nah. I just like hearin’ you ladies talk,” he says in that gentle tone of his. You smile and look down, loving how much of a closeted sweetheart he is. Arthur’s the only man you know who can be scary as hell one second and be gentle and soft a minute later. His eyes glide over to you and his smile widens. He tips his hat. “Hello, Ms. (your last name).” 

You blush. “Hello, Mr. Morgan.” 

He stands there for a few more seconds, watching your hands move. Stupidly, you feel like you’ve forgotten how to sew in front of him, pricking yourself twice and having to remove four stitches. A small snort escapes Tilly and you feel like kicking her. 

Finally, thankfully, Arthur straightens up and heads off, disappearing around John’s tent. You let out a big sigh, knowing it’s fruitless to pretend like you haven’t got a thing for him. The girls already know, after all. 

“See what I mean?” Karen says. 

“That wasn’t unusual, Karen. He does that shit all the time.” 

“Listening in on conversations? Sure. But didn’t you notice you were the only one he greeted? That man’s sweet on you.” 

“He… he’s not! I promise you girls, we’re just friends.” 

“Really?” Tilly says. “Then how about this: you go over to him right now, do something that only a person who was sweet on him would do, and see how he reacts.”

“And what the hell would a person who’s sweet on him do?” You’re starting to get irritated again. Why can’t they just drop this?

“Oh you could touch his arm, pretend like you have a secret you wanna tell and whisper in his ear, play with your hair in front of him. Ain’t like it’ll be hard for you to pretend to be sweet on him,” Mary-Beth says. 

“I ain’t doin’ that,” you say flatly. 

“Fine. But we’re just gonna keep on teasin’ you,” Tilly says with a cocky grin. 

“Oh my God. Fine! I’ll go act stupid around him if it means you three will shut up!” 

Throwing down your sewing, you find Arthur standing near his tent, picking through the ammo supplies and slipping some boxes of bullets into his satchel. Your heart’s pounding in your chest, your palms sweating. What if they’re wrong and Arthur doesn’t feel anything for you? Then you’ll just be standing here acting like a complete fool. Worse yet, what if they’re right? 

“H-hey Arthur,” you say, trying to swallow your nerves. 

He looks over at you and smiles. “Hello, miss.” 

“H-hey, Arthur. I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go hunting with me? I… I could use some time out and Pearson says he’s low on meat.”

That’s a damn lie, Pearson’s practically stuffed with meat from your last hunting trip. Hopefully Arthur doesn’t know that. 

“Sure. When you wanna go?” 

You swallow again, amazed that he’s already keen. “Um… when-whenever. It doesn’t have to be now. I mean, if you got stuff to do then you got stuff to do. I can just hang out until you’re done.” 

You start babbling on, feeling stupider by the second. How the hell does he not see right through you. However, he stands patiently in front of you, the softest smile on his lips and his eyes crinkled at the corners. After a second, he raises his hand to stop you talking, a faint chuckle leaving his throat. 

“Miss, we can go whenever you’d like. Now if you want, even. I’m free. Let me just get a couple more things, and I’ll meet you by the horses.” 

Feeling eyes on your back, you know now is your time to make a move. Your heart in your throat and feeling like you’re about to poop out your stomach, you smile up at him. “Thanks, Mr. Morgan. By the way, I have something for you. Way to thank you for getting me that book last week.” 

You reach into your own satchel and pull out a box of premium cigarettes, knowing he’s trying to collect cards for some stranger he met not too long ago. When he grabs it, you don’t let go. Instead you intentionally run your fingers across his hand, though try to make it look unintentional. 

Immediately his hand freezes upon your touch. Then, just as you’re about to drop your hand, his turns to meet your palm with his. He gives it the gentlest and briefest of squeezes. Forgetting that you have an audience, your hand slowly slides up his arm, you take a step forward. Your hand settles on his shoulder, your eyes glued to his. His hand settles, almost nervously on your waist, slowly pulling you closer. Before either of you really knows what’s happening, you reach up on your toes and gently touch his lips with yours. Instead of pulling away like you thought he might, he responds eagerly. He moves his mouth with yours and both his arms pull you to his firm body. 

After a second, you come to your senses and pull away quickly, your face flushed. “I-I’m sorry, Mr. Morgan. I don’t know what came over me.”

He lets out a long breath and then smiles, hiding his eyes beneath his hat. “That’s a’right. If… If you don’t mind me sayin’, I… rather liked it.” 

You blink rapidly. He liked it? The girls were right? What the hell? You hear a sharp giggle somewhere behind you and turn to glare at Tilly and Mary-Beth. Feeling frustrated by your audience, you turn back to him. 

“Arthur, would you mind if we left now? I feel this is not the wisest place for us to… be around each other, if you know what I mean.” 

His eyes land on the girls and he too blushes. He nods and puts his hand on your shoulder, leading you off to the horses. When the two of you are mounted up, you run down to the river beneath the Overlook. There, standing on the edge of the river, bathed in hot sunlight, you kiss Arthur again, only this time it’s much more passionate with less hesitation. His hands feel right on your back and shoulders while your own whip off his hat, winding into his hair. 

After enjoying the steamy makeout session, Arthur takes you to the base of a tree, sits down and gestures for you to settle against him. You sit in his lap, tucked against his side and your head on his chest. His arm is draped lazily around your shoulders, his hand settled on yours as it rests on his stomach. You watch the stream roll by, the birds whistling to one another. A doe grazes not far away, completely unaware of your presence, but you’ve no intention of showing yourself. You’re too happy, too comfortable, nestled against Arthur. His heart pumps steadily in your ear as a light breeze brushes through your hair. All is quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly welcomed!


	78. Unable to have kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hello I have a request it's a little sad but I'll try. I have a little sickness that makes it difficult for me to have kids and I was [wondering] if you could do an Arthur x F!Reader and the reader would have this little problem and Arthur would try to [cheer] her up and makes her feel better about it. Would it be possible?

You stare out the window, your eyes not truly seeing the garden and the barn lying outside it. Arthur’s letter is in your hands. You’ve only read it a hundred times since he left 2 weeks ago. He should be back any day now, but you’re worried. Not of him, of course, but how he might take the news you’ve been trying to prepare yourself to deliver. 

You and Arthur have lived on this little ranch for 3 years. The gang you ran with has been disintegrated by Dutch’s foolish choices, driven by the betrayal of that snake Micah Bell. You, Arthur, John and a few others were lucky enough to escape with your lives. After that, you and Arthur decided to try and settle down somewhere, try to have a somewhat normal life. He stated he was mostly done with the outlaw life (though he still enjoys bounty hunting. He got your friend Sadie Adler interested in the work). 

A few months back, Arthur reunited with John in Blackwater after he turned in a bounty. John and his family came to visit and reconnect, but you overheard Arthur mentioning to John he might like to try for a family with you. The idea put a rock in your stomach that you’ve been mulling over ever since. You knew then you’d have to tell him, but how can you do it without breaking his heart? 

Two weeks ago, Arthur left to go and help John build a house on a plot called Beecher’s Hope. You decided to stay back to care for your ranch, but Arthur left you a letter the morning he left, promising he’d return by today and stating how much he loved you. Knowing he’s spent the last two weeks with John, Abigail and Jack, you figure he’ll have the family bug when he returns, anxious to try for his own. 

A tear slides down your cheek at the thought of seeing his disappointment. Will he regret falling in love with you? He wouldn’t, or at least you hope he wouldn’t. However, there is no denying it’ll crush him. Dashing away his hopes for a second chance with his child, especially after Isaac. 

You look down at the letter. The paper’s soft by this point, a result of you unfolding and reading it so often. Some of the words are smudged from your tears falling on them. You fold it back up, placing it on your nightstand. When you look back out the window, you see Arthur riding on his horse towards the barn. Your stomach clenches nervously. 

You go outside to greet him like you always do, giving him a kiss and hoping he doesn’t see the redness around your eyes. If he does, he doesn’t mention it. He hums happily as he unsaddles his horse. You can’t dash away his good mood right now, not like this. 

As you begin to cook dinner, you ask questions about John’s house. They only managed to get the skeleton of the house built and he plans to go back in another week or two, but he wanted to make sure you’re alright. 

After dinner, Arthur starts getting amorous with you. It’s as you feared: he must have the idea to begin his own family. As he lays you down and starts kissing your neck the way you like, his hands working to get your clothes off, you feel your chest clench, a fresh wave of tears threatening to overwhelm you. 

“Arthur, Arthur I can’t do this,” you gasp. 

He looks up at you, his hands still on your chemise. 

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” His eyes seem worried. 

“I… I can’t do this with you. Not right now.” 

He sits up, looking hurt. “What’s goin’ on? Darlin’, is… is there somethin’ you need to tell me?” 

You feel a shocking jolt as you realize he must think you’ve been seeing another man. You sit up and swallow. 

“Y-yes, there is. But it’s not what you think, Arthur. I… I know you want a family.” You rub your watery eyes, trying to be brave. “I heard you and John talking about it. But…” 

He lets out a sigh, as if partially relieved. The bed sinks a little as he sits down next to you and puts an arm behind you, trying to comfort you. You swallow heavily, wishing the ball inside your throat would stop trying to choke you. 

“Arthur, I… I can’t give you a family. Not like the kind you want. I… I have a sickness that makes it unlikely for me to ever have children. I should have told you a long time ago, but… I couldn’t.” There. It’s out in the open now. You wait for the blow, the disappointment. 

“Oh, darlin’,” he whispers, his hand gliding up to your shoulder. “Were you scared to tell me this?” 

You nod, unable to look at him as more tears fall from your eyes. To your surprise, he chuckles. 

“Darlin’, you needn’t have been scared. I ain’t mad, and I ain’t disappointed. Ain’t like it’s your fault you can’t have babies. ‘Sides, if we really wanted ‘em, we could always adopt. Know there’s plenty o’ kids out there needin’ homes. And let me tell ya another thing.” He puts a finger beneath your chin and guides your face to look at him. When your eyes find his, he rubs his thumb along your cheek. “Kids don’t make a family, darlin’. Love makes a family. From what I know, we got plenty o’ that between us.” 

For the first time in days, you smile and the rock in your stomach disappears. You take a big sigh, feeling like it’s your first proper breath in a long time. He leans over and kisses you, his hand on your knee. Your own comes up to settle on his cheek and jaw. 

“Thank you, Arthur,” you say softly. 

He smiles and kisses your palm. “I love you, no matter what happens. Kids or no kids. I ain’t ever gonna stop lovin’ you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't be afraid to send me feedback. I promise I read every comment I get. Please don't feel nervous, either! I appreciate my readers so much I will never be angry or annoyed! I wanna hear from y'all!


	79. Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: I was just playing the mission where they clear out beaver hallow and it made me want to request something where healthy! Arthur rescues a reader in the cave and the aftermath where they fall in love and what not 👀😬🥰 pretty please

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: blood, gore, mentions of witnessed rape, but an assload of fluff

Cold. That’s all you feel. Physically, mentally, emotionally. The entire world has grown cold. How can you believe in warmth and light and love or kindness in a place like this? You’re surrounded by constant darkness, only occasionally broken up by the firelight of torches, hidden somewhere around the bend of the giant pillar holding the ceiling of this massive cavern. If only you could leave, but you’re trapped in this steel cage, the door bound tightly shut by thick ropes. 

It’s impossible to say how long you’ve been here. There’s no way for you to tell between night and day, and therefore you haven’t been able to count. It feels like an eternity though. All the others you were with, your brother and his horrible wife and spoiled daughter, they’re all dead. Why you were spared by these murderers is a mystery. Maybe because you were the only grown woman who showed no signs of being spoilt by another man, maybe it was just a random choice. 

Not that the others in your caravan were killed immediately. Some of them were, sure, shot down by the rifles in the Murfree’s hands, like your brother for instance. He hadn’t even seen them coming before those men put a bullet in his skull. You, the other women and a few of the men were bound and dragged to their cavern while a few stayed behind to butcher the others. If only their screams were the only ones you heard. 

After being dragged into the cavern, the Murfrees took the three of the four men left alive and began to attack them, cutting off bits and pieces of them, gutting one and skinning the other. It was bad enough to hear and see what was happening, but then you watched, held down by a Murfrees boot, as your sister-in-law was stripped, raped and then cut into pieces. Her massacred torso was shoved onto a spike, a warning to travelers of what was waiting for them. She was an evil, horrible person, but she didn’t deserve that. 

You and your niece were two of the four left alive. Another woman and the last man were dragged inside. All the women, including your niece, were thrown into this cage while the man was taken somewhere else, apparently meant to be tortured slowly. There was no rhyme or reason to this savage attack, but as time passed and you picked up bits and pieces of the Murfrees talking, you gathered that they viewed this area as their territory and would defend it however they deemed fit, and that was through extreme violence and foul savagery. 

As the days passed, though you could not count them for lack of light, the Murfrees began to prey upon the other two women in the cage with you. They picked the oldest one first, dragging her out, shearing her hair off, raping her. Apparently she was too old for their taste and they killed her only a few hours later. 

Your niece, though spoiled rotten and one of the worst people you’ve ever known, you would never wish any of this on her. They picked her next. They dragged her from the cage, strapped her to a rack and left her naked. Every once in a while, some of them would gather around her, rape her, cut her, whip her. Her screams were the worst as she was little more than a child. YOu were glad she didn’t last long. But her death meant that it was your turn. 

However, the Murfrees haven’t done anything just yet. They’ve come up to the cage, rattled the bars, screamed all sorts of horrible things at you, stuck in their hands to try and grab you, but they haven’t done anything. It’s clear why. This waiting, the anticipation for the inevitable horrors lying ahead for you, is a form of torture. And torture it is. You wished they’d just kill you already. 

It’s impossible to say how many tears you’ve shed. Your throat is cracked, dry and painful from the lack of water and the hours you’ve spent screaming for help. Your captors haven’t bothered to offer you food or water, but that’s the last thing you’re worried about. You know they’re capable of far, far worse. 

Your niece must have died days ago. They still haven’t bothered to remove her corpse from the rack on the other side of the cavern from your cage. The smell of this place is choking. The stench of her decay, and the decay of other rotting bodies, overwhelms you. That mixed with urine and feces threatens to make you vomit what very little nourishment is left in your stomach. 

At one point, a Murfree walks past your cage. You look out with a tear-stained face. “Kill me, please!” you beg. 

He just chuckles, showing rotten teeth. “Oh not so fast there, little girl. Your friends died way too quickly. We plan on making you last a while.” 

You try to make him angry, to spur him to kill you, but he doesn’t fall for it. You try everything you can think of, but nothing comes of it. They’ve left you in nothing but your underclothes. If you weren’t already so terrified of them raping you and leaving your naked body on display, you’d strip yourself out of your chemise and hang yourself. As time goes on though, that idea becomes more and more appealing. How much longer can you last? 

Finally the cave falls silent. There hasn’t been any screams for some time, all their other victims must be dead or incapacitated. The Murfrees are quiet too. Maybe they’re sleeping, or out scouting for fresh blood. This gives you the opportunity to lay on the back wall of the cage that’s right against the pillar, meaning no one can grab you through the bars. Despite the fear and pain in your bruised body, you manage to fall into a light sleep. 

Suddenly someone screams out, jerking you awake. It isn’t the scream of someone getting tortured or murdered. There’s words in them. 

“Someone’s in the cave!” it says. 

You stand up, your heart in your throat. A gunshot echoes through the cavern making you jump out of your skin, and it’s followed by more screams. Murfrees begin to swarm towards the gunshots, screaming and calling out threats. They’re armed with machetes and guns of their own. 

After several minutes, the air finally falls silent. Then the face of a man comes into view. You’ve never seen him before. His intelligent eyes glitter from a dark face and he calls behind him. 

“There’s someone alive, she’s in a cage.” 

All you can think of is that they’re new captors, and that they’re just as bad or possibly worse than the Murfrees. A whimper escapes your lips as you try clinging to the back wall of the cage, looking for somewhere to hide. 

The man comes back into view, followed by another man. He wears a leather hat and he slings a gun to his back before approaching. 

“S-stay away from me!” you yell out, your voice surprisingly strong. 

“It’s okay, we’re here to help,” the white man says. He gets close to the door, despite you pleading for him to leave and then pulls out a knife. You begin screaming, your legs turning to jelly as you sink to the ground in the corner. This is it. You’re going to have a number of unspeakable things done to you and then you’re going to die. 

“Shhh, we ain’t gonna hurt ya,” says the man, quickly cutting through the rope that locks your door. He sheaths it immediately and holds his arms up. His voice is soft and gentle. 

“Easy, easy. We’re here to help.” 

“Please leave me alone,” you sob. Your hands are over your ears as tears sting your eyes. He’s getting closer, causing your heart to beat painfully. Your head drops to your knees so you don’t have to see him anymore, hoping he’ll go away. 

Something gently touches your shoulder, but you flinch as though stung. It touches you a little harder, but there’s no pain to it. When you uncover your eyes, you see it’s his hand. Blue eyes meet yours and he talks gently again. 

“It’s okay. I’m here to help ya. Gonna get you home.” He slowly gets closer, enveloping his arms around you. Despite your intense fear, you lean into him, burying your face into his chest. He smells good, but that’s in comparison to the foul stench of the cave. Heat emanates from him, allowing you to escape from the cold, and you shiver. 

“A’right, let’s get ya outta here.” The man stands up, but you cling to him, suddenly afraid of his absence. Contrary to what you believed a few moments ago, this man represents safety, light, warmth and hope. You cling to his hand, sticking close as he begins walking through the cavern, accompanied by the other man you first saw. 

“So, where you from?” your hero asks. 

“Valentine. But… but… I don’t…” You blanch as you see the fresh corpses of the Murfrees spread around. 

“It’s okay,” he says, squeezing your hand. “They’re all dead. You’re safe.” 

You swallow, your lower lip trembling, sticking closer to him as you both walk towards the mouth of the cave. Your feet scrape against the cold rock and small bones of animals that are strewn about. Light hits your eyes suddenly, harsh and painful, causing you to wince. After a moment, you adjust to it and look around the uncomfortably familiar clearing, littered with bodies and broken bits of wagons. You avoid looking at the pike holding what’s left of your sister-in-law. 

Your hero stands next to a horse and he looks back at you. “You okay to ride a little? I’ll take ya home.” 

You begin shivering and then break into tears, crumpling to the ground. “My family…. There’s…. There’s no one left.” 

The man walks over and gently picks you up so you’re standing. He offers himself as a support for you and you lean into him, wishing this was all nothing more than a horrible nightmare. 

“You sayin’ you ain’t got a family no more?” he asks softly. 

You nod into his shirt. “They’re gone. They’re gone.” 

“Well… ya can’t stay here. Let me take ya home, then you can figure out what ya wanna do.” 

Slowly, he lifts you onto his horse and then climbs on in front. You cling to him as though your very life depends on it, which it partially does. He bids his companion farewell and then kicks his horse into an easy gallop. 

“You okay, miss?” he asks after a few moments. 

“They’re… they’re animals!” you say with a harsh sob. 

“I know, but you’re safe now.” 

“I haven’t slept in days! My family, they killed them!” You bury your head into his back and cry, exhaustion ripping through you. The weight of the last few days is finally slamming into you. All you want to do is curl up and sleep, never to wake up again. Part of you wishes this man would take pity on you and just put a bullet in your head. It would be easier. But amidst your crying, you don’t have the strength to ask him. 

He rides on, giving you encouragement every once in a while. When he passes O’Creagh’s Run, you guide him to your cabin, which isn’t too much farther away. Once there, he helps you down from his horse and you stare at the cabin miserably. 

This cabin, you thought it had been hell before. After your parents died, you had nowhere to go but your brother’s, with his horrible wife and worse daughter, all of whom are now dead. If you’d had the money, you would’ve left a long time ago. Then, your brother got a job in Boston, which was why you were caravaning up to Annesburg, to board the train and go there. That is what led to you ending up in the Murfree’s clutches. 

The cabin lies cold and empty now. Your hero walks up to it with you and you open the door, finding the very little furniture that was left behind, including your rickety bed but it has no blankets. Only the lumpy mattress you slept on. The man looks around, clearly worried about your predicament. 

“You sure there ain’t no where else I can take ya, ma’am?” 

You shake your head. “I don’t h-have anyone else, mister.” 

He sighs and nods, then goes to his horse where he pulls off his bedroll. He hands it to you. “Here. I know it ain’t much, but sounds like you need something warm to sleep in. You gonna be okay?” 

Your lip is trembling again and more tears are swelling up, but you nod. He looks at you, his eyes saying he doesn’t believe you. 

“Here, why don’t you lay down, try gettin’ some rest. I’ll um, see if I can cook you somethin’ to eat.” 

You’re so tired and confused that you can do nothing else but obey him. He sprawls his bedroll on the old mattress and you climb into it. All you want to do is fall asleep now that you’re warm and protected by this stranger, but the memories and the screams come back to you, preventing you from doing so. Soon, the smell of cooking meat fills the cabin and you look up. 

“I got some venison cookin’ up for ya.”

The thought of eating any kind of meat, after the things you witnessed, makes you want to gag. He sees your green face. 

“Somethin’ wrong?” 

“I… I can’t eat that. Not…. not like this. Not now.” 

Realization dawns on his face. “That’s a’right, I’ll eat it later. Well here, I got some beans, canned fruit. Here, got this too.” 

He reaches into his satchel and pulls out a chocolate bar and hands it to you. Despite having not eaten in days, you’re really not hungry. You take the candy and just hold it, sniffing lightly. You hear him sigh and then he drags the one chair left in the house over to you, sitting down so he can look at you. 

“Ma’am, I know you seen some bad things back there. I know those bastards killed your family. I’m real sorry, about all that. But… well, you’d make me feel a lot better if you’d eat somethin’.” 

Tears streaming down your cheeks, you open the chocolate up and take a bite, though you don’t really taste it. He pats your knee, making you flinch. 

“What’s your name?” 

You tell him and he nods. “Arthur. Arthur Morgan. You, uh, you gonna be okay here?” 

You just shrug your shoulders. Although you’ve no appetite, you’re starting to feel better now that your stomach has something in it. When you’re finished eating, Arthur offers you some peaches but you deny them. You really don’t think you can handle any more food. Instead, you lay down to try and get some sleep. Arthur stands up and begins heading for the door. 

“Wait,” you say, your voice shaking. “Arthur, will… will you stay with me? At least until I… I’m not awake anymore?” 

He turns and looks at you. It’s obvious from his face he’s got something heavy weighing on his mind, but he nods and sits back down in the chair. “Sure. Guess I can do that.” 

You lay back down, your eyes unable to close for fear of seeing the horrors you witnessed. You can’t stand to watch your family get butchered again, hear their screams. Arthur pulls out an old journal from his satchel and begins scratching at a page with his pencil. The sound, and the exhaustion, finally lulls you to sleep. 

Contrary to your surety, you end up having no dreams. Perhaps your mind’s so tired it can’t muster up the energy to dream, or maybe it’s trying to block the memories out. You don’t care though, you’re just grateful. You wake up after a few hours. It’s dark outside your window. Arthur’s gone and you’re all alone. 

You feel like crying again, but you’re extremely thirsty. A result of having nothing to drink for God knows how long. You go out into the family room and kitchen of the cabin and find something lying on the cold stove. There’s several cans of food, a full waterskin, a bundle of money and a letter. Reading it, you see it’s from Arthur and he begs you to take care of yourself as best you can and that he’ll try and check on you in a few days. The thought of him returning sends a jolt of hope through your chest. 

After drinking nearly half of the waterskin’s contents, you try going back to sleep, but you’re afraid. Afraid of the isolation, the darkness. You light a candle, but it does little to help. Shadows flicker along the walls, the silhouettes of the leaves outside play tricks on your eyes. 

You know that not all the Murfrees were in that cabin when Arthur saved you. There were still plenty out there, alive and probably angry. Would they hunt you down? Would they hunt Arthur down? You have more questions than answers. The fear that they will track you and find you here tears through your chest. Should you leave? If Arthur returns, should you ask to follow him? He must have a group of people he lives with, but the thought of living with strangers makes you afraid too. You’ll be lucky if you ever trust another person after this. How can anyone be good when you just witnessed such extreme brutality? 

***************************

A few days pass with no sight or word of another person, which is lucky for you. You talked yourself into going to the stream not far from the cabin and bathing, happy to strip the dirt and the blood from your skin. You rubbed yourself raw, as though convinced that by stripping your skin as much as you could, you could strip away the memories. 

You struggle to sleep, and when you do, it’s very light. The slightest sounds wake you. If only Arthur were here, you felt safe with him. However, you doubt he’ll return. Why would he? You don’t know each other, he owes you nothing and you’ve nothing to offer him in return for his services. Still, you count the days until you see him, happy that you can see the sunlight. 

The day after you came back, a young stag started to visit your house. Your home has always been frequented by deer, of course. But none of them ever stay long. The stag, though, seems to like this spot. You’ve caught him napping beneath your bedroom window a few times. He seems to have no fear of you, nor does he seem aggressive. In fact, he seems curious about you, liking to watch you pick through your sister-in-law’s garden, which is beginning to grow wild. The stag is a welcome companion. You know his senses are far more powerful than your own, and if he’s afraid, you should be too. He never gets worried though, until the fourth day. 

You’re out picking some ginseng from the garden when the stag looks up from his grazing and bolts off into the trees. Looking up, you see Arthur walking in on his horse. He waves to you in greeting. A sigh escapes your lips and your stomach unclenches. You’d been afraid it’d been one of the Murfrees coming down the path. 

“Hello, Y/N,” he says, dismounting. 

“H-hello, Arthur,” you say with a croaky voice. You haven’t spoken a word since you last saw him. 

“How are you?” he asks, stopping a few feet away. “Ya look tired.” 

You shrug again. “It’s… it’s been hard to sleep.” He just nods, not expecting you to go into detail as to why. You notice from his eyes that he seems tired himself. 

“I’d… Let me cook something up for you,” you say. “Afraid all I have is the food you left for me. Thank you for that, by the way.” 

“It’s not a problem, ma’am, and you don’t need to do that. By the way, do you know how to feed yourself out here?” 

It’s clear he means hunting, and you shake your head. “I don’t think I can do it. Maybe before all this I could’ve, but now…” 

He nods, understanding what you mean. “Give it time, Y/N. But I brought more food for you. Thought you might need it.” 

You invite him inside, stammering your thanks. Of course, there’s really not anywhere to sit, but you and Arthur do by sitting on the floor, eating out of the cans. You’re both quiet for a time, but then you ask Arthur what his life is like, desperate for a distraction from the hell that is your own life. 

He tells you that he’s an outlaw, that he’s running with a gang. They’ve run into the worst of times, which is what led to him and his friend Charles to Beaver Hollow where they found you. He finishes by saying they’re all holed up there now and they’ve cleaned it up. 

“You’re not afraid of the Murfrees coming back?” you ask, your eyes wide. 

He chuckles. “Trust me, they’d be damn stupid to do that. With how my gang is right now, they’re nastier than those Murfrees.” 

“I don’t believe that for a second, Mr. Morgan. You… you don’t kidnap and butcher people,” you say slowly, still getting used to talking again. 

“No, but we’re all turnin’ on each other like a pack of wild, starvin’ dogs. The gang leader, Dutch… he’s… gone crazy or somethin’. His girl came back, drunk and mad, sayin’ she betrayed us. Our matriarch, Susan, shot her dead. I wanted to spare Dutch’s girl, but they killed her anyways. I honestly have my doubts that she betrayed us. Think she was just heartbroken, woulda said anythin’ to hurt Dutch like he hurt her.”

You don’t really know anything about what he’s saying, but it sounds like his gang’s in trouble. You swear you recognize the name Dutch though. 

“What… what is Dutch’s last name?” you ask. 

“Van der Linde. Why?” 

Your eyes widen again and you stare at Arthur with a new sense of recognition. “You’re with Dutch’s boys? The gang of murderers, train robbers and bandits?” 

He sighs and just nods. 

“I read about the Blackwater heist, the Valentine massacre. Were… were you involved with those?” 

“Not the Blackwater heist. But I helped shoot up Valentine, Rhodes, Saint Denis. I’m afraid I ain’t the hero you believe I am.” 

Even though you know you should be appalled and disgusted with the man sitting beside you, you don’t. Instead, you put your hand on his knee. “You saved my life, Mr. Morgan. You killed those bad people, brought me home. Not only that, you’re here now to make sure I’m okay. You can’t be all bad.” 

“But I ain’t all good neither, Y/N. Trust me, I killed just as many folks as those bastards who put you in this situation.” 

You pause and withdraw your hand. “Did you like it? Killing those people?” 

He sighs. “No. I ain’t never liked it. But I had to with most of ‘em.” 

“Then you’re not as bad as those Murfree bastards. They… they liked it.” For the first time since you returned, you willingly delve into those memories, trying to get Arthur to see your point. “They said they’d do horrible things to me, Arthur. And I believed every single one of them because I watched them do those things to my family. My brother and his family weren’t good people, but they didn’t deserve what happened. Forgive me, but I don’t see you skinning a man and laughing as he screams. I can’t imagine you raping a girl as young as my niece. I can’t believe you’d mutilate a woman and put her body on a pike for display.” 

He swallows. “No. No I’d never do that.” 

“Then you ain’t a bad man, not like them. You… saved me and you don’t even know me.” 

He looks at you and pats you on the knee. “I’d save you again, miss. Listen, even though things are bad with my gang and I got a lotta work to do, I… I’m hopin’ you’ll be a’right if I stay here every few days?” 

You smile for the first time and squeeze his hand. “Nothing would make me happier, Mr. Morgan.” 

****************************************

As Arthur promised, every few days he returns to your cabin and usually stays for a day or two. He sleeps out in his own tent during the night, resting in a new bedroll since you still have his old one. You offered it back but he told you to keep it. 

After his third visit, he brought tools he bought from Valentine and started making you furniture. You had no means to get it yourself, and you were incredibly embarrassed that he’d do such labors as that, but you were grateful. He made a table first and then a chair to go with the single one you had. 

Every time he comes, he brings food and often leaves you with some money. You ask him to keep it, of course, as you haven’t gotten the courage to go to town. However he ignores your pleas and does it anyways, stating you need it more than he does. 

Along with this, he decided to teach you how to shoot a gun, stating it’s useful knowledge in case the Murfrees do track you down. You don’t like it much at first as the bang always makes you jump. When you grow used to it, it gets easier. Arthur ends up leaving a carbine repeater with you so you can have some form of protection when he’s gone. 

When Arthur isn’t here, the young stag always returns. You find great comfort in the deer’s company, almost like he’s watching over you when Arthur can’t. He always leaves when Arthur visits, but within hours of his departure, the stag comes back every time. 

As the weeks go by, your memories slowly begin to grow less harsh and you start recalling them less. You still don’t trust strangers and any sight of one from the trail sends you running into your cabin. The threat of the Murfrees still hangs heavy over your head. The nightmares started some time ago and you still aren’t able to sleep very well. You notice you sleep best on the nights when Arthur’s visiting. 

You look out your kitchen window and see him coming down the trail now, making your heart lift. Opening the window, you call out to him and he waves, a big grin on his face. As he dismounts his horse, he looks over at you. 

“What you cookin’?” he asks. 

“Just some turkey. I shot one earlier.” 

“Did ya?” he says, pride in his voice. He tried getting you to eat some eat a couple weeks back but with no success. However, even you can’t deny how much weight you’ve lost since the cave. Even though you’re eating enough beans, vegetables and fruits, it’s obvious you need to eat some meat to keep going. 

He walks into the cabin, sniffing appreciatively. You can’t help but blush. The more you two have gotten to know each other, the more you’ve grown to like him. Not only that, you’re quickly developing a crush on him. You have an idea that he might like you too. After all, why else would he keep visiting you like this? 

Just as you’re setting dinner down on the table, the cabin is suddenly illuminated by and quickly followed by a huge bang, causing you to jump out of your skin. 

“Easy, easy,” Arthur says, his hand planting on the small of your back. “It’s just lightning and thunder.” 

You blush at his touch and nod. He goes over to the window and looks up at the sky. “Hmm. Looks like a pretty good storm.” 

You pause. You’ve no bed to offer him, but you don’t want him sleeping out in the rain either. 

“You can, um, take my bed if you want,” you offer. “You’re the guest, after all.” 

“No, miss, I’d never kick ya out of your own bed.” 

You think to offer him sleeping with you in the bed but you quickly dash away that thought. No way would he go for it and you doubt you’d be comfortable with that. 

However, as the night sets further in, the storm grows stronger. The lightning and thunder last for a long time, even to the point where you’re huddled in bed and shivering. You’ve never been a huge fan of thunder during the night, but after the Murfrees it’s even worse. 

After a while of heart-wrenching fear of the storm, you get out of bed and look out in the kitchen, where Arthur’s laid his bedroll out on the floor. 

“Arthur?” you whisper. 

He grunts over the howling wind, letting you know he’s awake. 

“Arthur, will… will you come be with me? I can’t sleep over this.” 

He sits up and nods. Before he stands, you go back to your bed and huddle against the wall, still cold. He comes in, his eyes glancing at the lit lantern on your bedside table. You never sleep without it anymore. Silently, he crawls into bed and lies down on his back. At first, you give him his space, but the lightning and thunder persist. This sends you to pack yourself against him, your head buried into his shirt. He doesn’t seem to mind though, in fact his arm wraps protectively around you. 

After this night, things noticeably change between the two of you. Arthur’s much more likely to touch you and he spends most nights in your bed. Despite everything you saw happen to your sister-in-law and niece in the cave, it doesn’t take long before you end up having sex with Arthur. It had been in the morning and he’d been spooning you. You’d shuffled your hips a little and felt his morning wood. Being already attracted to him, you couldn’t control yourself and one thing led to another. He was the first person you’d slept with too, but he was gentle and did his best to make sure you felt good. 

You were honestly surprised with yourself about sleeping with him. You hadn’t even kissed and yet there you were with him between your legs. However, you wouldn’t deny that it felt right. After the deed was done, the two of you talked for a while about what would happen between the two of you. Both of you admitted your feelings for one another. It was the best thing to have happened to you since Arthur saved your life. All the walls came tumbling down. He told you the details about his gang and how bad things had become. You told him about your past too, the abuses you suffered at the hands of your brother and his family, which explained why you weren’t devastated by their deaths, though disturbed by them. 

Since that morning, sex between the two of you has become a fairly regular thing. Arthur’s careful, not wanting another situation like Eliza and Isaac. Your feelings have quickly spiraled out of control. You wish he was around all the time but understand when he has to leave to try and help what remains of his gang. 

Arthur says he loves you, but it’s not until one night that he discovers he’s never loved anyone more. The two of you had just finished fooling around and he’d collapsed on top of you. Things had been so hard in the gang lately, he and Charles had aided Eagle Flies, the Wapiti chief’s son escape prison, and Dutch had found out. He’d been irate when he discovered Arthur was helping the Wapiti behind his back. Things had hit an all time low, so being with you was the greatest form of relief for him. However, as he settled on top of you, you held his head to your chest and stroked his hair. 

Never before had you lay with him like this. From the beginning, it was him who held you, him who brushed your hair, him who comforted you in the night. But here you were, with his head on your shoulder, whispering in his ear that things would be better. No woman in his past ever did this, and he knew he’d like nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with you. 

****************************************

Arthur rides down towards your little cabin with the heaviest of hearts. The betrayal crushes down on him, and the pain of everything sags his shoulders down. When he sees you out in the garden, looking so beautiful as you sing to yourself with the sun glowing on your hair, he feels like crying, knowing you’ll accept him with open arms. 

When you spot him, you break out with your big smile. The one he loves so much. When he embraces you, burying his face into your hair, you know something real bad has happened. You ask and he tells you how the Wapiti attacked the oil fields in retaliation to all the horrible things the army and Cornwall have done to them. He tells you how Dutch used the Indians to get rich, how he himself had been knocked down and nearly killed. Dutch had a chance to save him but abandoned him. 

“He was like my father,” he sniffs into your hair. “Him and Hosea, they raised me. But now I see I’ve never been anything other than a means to an end for him. I’m expendable. All those goddamn years. Wasted.” 

“What will you do?” you ask softly when he composes himself. 

He leans up, his hands still on your waist. “I ain’t goin’ back. I’m done breakin’ my back for that fool. If… If you’ll have me, I’d like to stay here with you. Try for a… a new life.” 

You smile and brush his cheek with your hand. “Nothing would make me happier, Arthur.”

The kiss that follows is one you’ll never forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Without feedback, I would have stopped writing a long time ago. Help me keep going because I love it!


	80. "Make me"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked (from a list of dialogue prompts): "Make me"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: pure smut

You and Arthur have been having one of those days. The two of you have just been dying to get a few moments alone together. Well, more than a few really. You’ve been desperate to feel him inside you all day and at one point, he pulled you behind a wagon just to kiss your neck and tell you what he’d like to do to you. His promises made you shiver with anticipation. 

It’s pretty much impossible for the two of you to make love in camp during the day. Everyone would know what the two of you were doing. Having sex at night was hard enough sometimes. It’s usually best when the two of you go out of town and get a room, but the truth is that Arthur performs best when the two of you are out in the middle of nowhere, completely alone. 

However, today will not grant you both that opportunity. Arthur’s been out for days on end and hardly been around, and it’s clear he needs a break. If he wasn’t so tired, you’d suggest riding out to Valentine and getting busy. Instead, you settle down for just trying to get him to release tonight. 

Finally, thankfully, night comes and it’s late enough that no one will question you and Arthur retiring for the evening. The moment you’re in the tent, you shove Arthur to sit down on the cot and give him a knowing grin. Then, you give him a little show, twirling slowly in front of him and removing your clothes. He grins, his eyes glueing themselves to your nipples when you show them. 

“Like what you see?” you ask, shaking them a bit. A quick glance at his pants gives you your answer. Your hand wanders down to the bulge of his pants and you open them, allowing his hard cock to spring out. You crawl into his lap, your hands on his shoulders, angling your hips over him so the head of his erection brushes your slit. He groans, his hands squeezing your hips. 

“Do I make you feel good, Arthur? Do I make you horny?” 

“Think you know the answer, sweetheart,” he pants, leaning back a little. 

“Show me then, big boy.” 

He suddenly flips you over onto your back and, without warning, plows himself into you. You groan loudly as his length gets pushed deep and hard into your core. His hands squeeze your chest as he begins to buck, somehow growing even more firm inside you. You spread your legs wider, angle your hips to give him a better angle. His lips go to your neck and he starts sucking on your soft skin. 

“Oh God, Arthur. Oh Arthur. Right there,” you say as his cock brushes your spot deep inside. He chuckles softly. 

“I want ya to come for me, darlin’. Come so hard everyone knows what we’re doin’.” 

He’s never done this before. All the previous times you’ve fucked in camp, he’s done it discretely for fear of teasing from the others. You can only think of one response to his demands. 

“Make me,” you pant.

He leans up enough just so you can see his sly grin. Then he angles your bodies so his feet are planted on the floor, your legs are wrapped around his hips. He pushes himself all the way back into you, his cock deliciously spreading your walls. 

“I’m gonna make you beg for more, darlin’,” he growls. 

Before you have the chance to say anything, he starts bucking, hard and slow. He knows that at this angle, he can brush your spot just right. His right hand, previously planted by your head, wanders down, strokes your nipple, and then glides down. He trails his fingers down your stomach and then to your slit where he begins stroking your clit. You’ve never been so wet before and you can hear it. 

“Damn, darlin’,” he says, looking down at your folds. He licks his lips and bucks more and more. 

“Arthur… I’m gonna… I’m gonna…” you begin, biting your lip as your orgasm threatens to rip through you. 

“Like I said, darlin’, I want ya to scream for me.” 

You want to give him that, God has he earned it. You spread your hips a bit further and he slowly strokes your clit while his head bumps into your spot. Finally, your back arches, your head tips back and a deep guttural groan escapes your lips. 

“Louder, girl,” he commands and he starts rubbing your clit hard and fast. The stimulation is too much and your toes curl. 

“Arthur! I can’t!” you whimper. 

“Let it go, baby.” 

He plunges deep and hard inside you, his right fingers stroke your clit and then his left hand comes up to stroke your nipple. With the stimulation in three parts, you’ve no choice but to let out a scream. He forces you to hold onto it for a few seconds, which feels like hours, and then his fingers release you. 

You pant beneath him, feeling like jelly. You don’t have an ounce of strength left in your body. 

“You done already, sweetheart? I’ve only just begun.” 

He gives you a wicked grin that lets you know the night’s only just begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love talking to my readers! This means I would love to talk to you!


	81. Two Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hiya! I love your works! Can I do a request? Perhaps a piece where Arthur falls for a short girl? She’s really spunky, and two faced, in a great way. Sweet and calm one minute, and slitting O’Driscoll throats while chuckling softly the next. Maybe Arthur falling for her+injured [when she gets injured]?

You’re sitting against the tree, a bundle of flowers in your lap. Not far away, leaning against another tree, sits Arthur, scribbling away in his journal. There’s no way you can know that right now, he’s sketching you fiddling with the flowers. 

Jack was the one who showed you how to twine these flowers together to make a chain. You previously gathered bundles of pink, flower, and even an unusual cluster of blue and yellow. You’re twining them together with the intentions of making a crown for yourself. You’d like to make one for Arthur too, but you find yourself unable to muster the courage to offer him one. He’s so big, tough, handsome. You’ve watched this man go from being funny to downright scary. 

Arthur looks up at you, wishing he could get the delicacy of your hands right on his paper. Little do you know that he thinks of you in much the same way you think of him. He’s attracted to you, sure, and he’d love to take you to dinner. He’s seen you go from being super sweet to Jack to rabidly vicious on Micah (not that he disagreed with you on that front). He’s been thinking about leaving a drawing on your pillow, but he’s nervous. He’s never shown anyone one of his drawings before. 

After throwing a sneaky glance towards Arthur, you stand up, needing to stretch. The Cumberland river is just across the path, so you walk over to it to get a drink and splash your face. Arthur stays beneath the shade of his tree, still trying to get your hands on his paper right. 

Right after lowering your hand from drinking, you hear horses coming down the path. No big deal, this is a popular trail. You don’t bother to look until you feel a rope wrap around your foot and yank it hard behind you, slamming your face into the ground. 

“Woo hoo! Look at this pretty little thing!” hollers a voice with an Irish voice. These goddamn O’Driscolls!

Despite your leg being pulled at an odd angle, you roll over on your side and pull out your pistol. The captors clearly weren’t ready for you to react so quickly, but there’s three of them. You shoot the one with the rope in the head, pulling the rope off your foot. 

Arthur’s rushing over to your aid, but the O’Driscoll closest to him charges him and they end up wrestling on the ground. They’re quite evenly matched, preventing him from coming to your aid quicker. 

Just as you’re standing up, the last O’Driscoll shoots the gun from your hand, leaving you defenseless. No matter, you have other means of killing him. Despite your small size, you’re strong, so you charge towards him and tackle him to the ground. He grunts as his back slams into the firm earth. 

You start punching the man as hard as you can. You hear Arthur yell your name, which pulls your attention momentarily from your quarry. This provides the man beneath you the chance to whip out his knife. He plunges it into your side, making you scream out, and he gets the chance to flip you onto your back and climb onto you. 

“This is too bad,” he says, his foul breath washing over your face. “I’d really been hoping to have some fun with you before you died.” 

His hand plants on your throat, squeezing hard. You grit your teeth, grab the knife handle and pull it from your side. The pain is indescribable, but it’s your only chance to live. With your free hand, you jab two fingers into his eyes. His hand leaves your neck and his weight seems to lessen, giving you the chance to kick him off and climb back onto him. Before he can regain his composure, you slice the knife along his throat, splattering yourself in his blood. 

You pant heavily on the man’s corpse, adrenaline pumping through your body. You can’t feel the pain in your side, but you know it’s bad. Blood is freely dripping out of your shirt and onto the ground. You look up and see Arthur, standing on the trail, his mouth slightly open. His eyes roam from your blood-covered face to the man beneath you. 

“Arthur,” you groan. He walks over and leans down, helping you up. That’s when he sees your wound. 

“Ah, goddamn it, sweetheart. Come on, let’s get ya cleaned up.” He helps you hobble over to the stream, where he helps wipe your face clean. Then, he picks you up bridal style, apologizing when you yelp in pain, and goes into the cover of the trees. There, he reaches into your horse’s saddlebag and pulls out fresh clothes. 

Feeling slightly nervous of how you might react, he lifts up your ruined shirt and chemise just enough to see the deep wound. He inspects it for a bit. “Think you’ll be okay, long as we get it stitched up.” 

He’s glad Grimshaw taught him how to do this years ago. It’s proved a useful technique many times. He pours a small amount of whiskey over your wound, apologizing again when you cry out. Then, with surprisingly steady fingers, he gets down to work. As he does, he talks to you, wanting to give you something else to focus on. 

“You know, I’m surprised. I, uh, never seen that before.” 

“What? Get stabbed?” you hiss. 

He chuckles. “No, not that. I mean, I never seen a woman as little as you take on a man twice your size and win.” 

“Arthur, I’m not exactly out of the woods. If I’d been a proper fighter, I wouldn’t have lost my gun.” 

“It happens to everyone, sweetheart. Can’t tell ya how many times I got mine knocked from my hands. But the fact that you didn’t surrender, that you went at him headon says you’re a proper fighter.” 

He doesn’t want to tell you, but watching you grapple with that big guy (aside from getting stabbed) was kind of hot. He has to focus on not imagining doing that with you, pinned and naked beneath you. He just hopes you don’t focus on his pants, it wouldn’t surprise him if he’s betraying his own thoughts. 

He finishes stitching you up and then leaves the area so you can change into fresh clothes. He’s glad it takes you a bit due to the pain. It allows him to hide in the bushes and resolve his problem. He comes back, hoping you won’t read on his face what he’d just done and that you were the thing he used to resolve it. You don’t though, as the shock of the attack is beginning to set in now that your adrenaline is wearing off. 

When he gets to your cluster of trees, he finds you shivering, leaning against a tree. 

“Woah, you okay?” he says, coming up to you and putting a hand on your shoulder. 

“Y-yeah. I just… I don’t know.” 

“Are you in a lot of pain?” 

You shake your head. 

“Well, is there somethin’ I can do to help?” he asks. 

You look up at him with widened eyes. There is one thing he can do that might help, but you have to muster all your courage to ask him. Killing a man like that O’Driscoll is easy, but asking Arthur this simple question feels almost impossible. However, you swallow hard and hold your gaze on him. 

“W-will you just hold me a while?” 

The question takes him off guard. How often has he imagined how you’d feel in his arms? He sees you shivering where you stand and he lets out a long breath. 

“Of course, darlin’.” 

You almost can’t believe he’s just agreed to do this. Then he sits down with his back against a tree and holds his arms out to you. With a bit of difficulty, you kneel down and crawl into his lap, your face burying into his chest. His heart thumps loud but steady in your ears. He’s warm, God is he warm. His firm arms envelope you, pulling you even closer to him. One of his hands settles on your head, holding you to his chest. With your forehead slightly pressed to his neck, you feel the shock beginning to fade. At least the shivering has stopped as you wrap your arms around his trunk. 

Arthur can’t believe he finally has you in his grasp like this. His daydreams don’t come anywhere close to how wonderfully you fit against him, like a puzzle piece. Your hair is soft and feels good as it slips between your fingers. He loves the feelings of your hands against his sides, your head on his chest. Nothing has ever felt so good as to hold you. He smiles at the thought that not even half an hour ago, you’d slit a man’s throat and been coated in his blood, yet here you are, cuddling up into him. He loves it. 

It’s impossible to say how long the two of you sit embraced together like this. Arthur started tracing patterns into your back at one point and this earned him the softest kiss on the spot where his neck meets his chest. He wants you to do it again but hopes you don’t as he can feel that he’s semi-hard already. He won’t stand the embarrassment if you go further and ask him what’s poking into your leg. 

Luckily, you don’t kiss him again. Instead, he watches you slowly drift off to sleep, still snuggled in his arms. He’s happy no one is around to ruin this moment, but he also wouldn’t trade this for all the riches of the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love talking to readers! Don't ever feel like you're not good enough to talk to me, because you are! I feel so incredibly lucky that so many of you would trust me enough to write for you!


	82. Wounded Arthur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hi! Before anything else, I just wanted to say that I absolutely adore your writing! So the scenario I had in mind: Arthur gets severely injured on a job and reader gets really protective (She also gets extremely angry at whatever happened/whoever caused it. Tbh it was probably Micah). She then cares for Arthur day by day until he’s better. He says he doesn’t want to be fussed over but in reality he secretly likes it.

You don’t like the look on Micah’s face. Not one bit. Then again, you’ve never trusted the slimy man leading you and Arthur down the muddy road of Valentine. He’s so damn arrogant and he always acts like his plans are going to go as smooth as butter, but then they almost always end in gunfire. There’s just something about him you don’t like. 

Arthur’s by your side too, but if he’s as nervous as you are, he doesn’t show it. He and Micah trade some snappy remarks. They’ve never really liked each other, that much is obvious. Arthur holds your hand lazily, something he always likes to do when you’re both out and about. You squeeze his hand, wanting to let him know something doesn’t feel right. He squeezes back. 

“Just relax, cowpoke,” Micah simpers, walking slightly ahead of the two of you. “This doctor's dim. I went and talked to him earlier, scoped the place out. This job’s on the level. You and your girl just go in there, rob whatever he’s got hidden in that back room, and get out. Easy as pie.” 

“If it’s so easy, why didn’t you rob him when you was scopin’ the place?” Arthur retorts. 

“Because I was playin’ injured, cowpoke. Besides, he’s likely to go snippin’ to the sheriff, what with him being next door. I ain’t so dumb as to rob the sheriff’s neighbor without someone to back me up.” 

Arthur sighs. “Why do I get the feelin’ this is gonna end in us shootin’ our way out of this damn town?” 

“Because that’s how Micah rolls,” you say, making sure he can hear you. “I ain’t ever known anyone so keen to trade bullets.” 

“It ain’t gonna be like that! You both act like I go around, asking people to duel,” Micah growls. You roll your eyes. With Micah’s record, he might as well be doing that. 

Micah leads you over to the doctor’s office. Then, leaning on a pillar holding up the building, he looks around, feigning innocence. “A’right, Y/N, you go and hold that doctor down. Arthur, go get the backroom. Should be easy. I’ll keep watch here, make sure no one suspects anything.” 

“Why don’t you go rob the backroom and I’ll keep a watch on the street?” Arthur says. 

“Because it’s my job, Morgan, I get to call the shots. Now do this quickly before someone sees us three lookin’ too chummy out here.” 

Arthur mutters something but goes inside. You go in a second later and immediately pull out your pistol, aiming it at the doctor. “What you got in that backroom?” you growl. 

The doctor, his face pale, licks his lips and raises his hands. “N-nothin’, I swear. Just a…. A friendly card game for folks willin’ to pay higher stakes.” 

“Well why don’t we drop in on these high-payin’ folks?” Arthur says. He gestures with his revolver for the doctor to lead the way to the backroom. The doctor knocks on the metal door and a slot opens, revealing a pair of eyes. You and Arthur hide as to avoid being seen. 

“J-just me,” the doctor says. “I brought some food and whiskey for you boys.” 

“Eh, it’s only the doc.” 

The door opens and you grab the doctor by his collar and shove him down into his exam chair, pointing your gun at him so he can’t run off to tattle. Arthur heads into the room and there’s immediate yells and a gun goes off. You hear something heavy fall, but you’re sure it’s nothing. Arthur’s more than capable of taking care of himself. That is until you hear someone inside laugh and say, “We got ‘im, boys! Arthur Morgan himself!” 

Quickly, you smash your gun into the doctor’s head, knocking him out, then you dash into the room. There, you’re met by four O’Driscolls and a saloon girl. Arthur’s on the ground, sitting against a wall, a dark circle on his lower left side blooming wider. He’s groaning in pain, the gun knocked from his hand lying beyond his reach. 

Before the O’Driscolls can point their guns from Arthur to you, you pull your trigger, taking them down with such speed it surprises even you. The saloon girl screams and backs into a corner. 

“Don’t shoot!” she pleads. 

“Arthur!” you whimper, ignoring her and going over to him. As you lean down to inspect him, he suddenly grabs your pistol and aims it at the saloon girl, who had managed to get a hold of one of the corpse’s guns. He shoots her and she falls. 

“Oh, Goddamn it, Arthur!” you say. You unbutton his shirt and see a bullet wound below his ribs. 

“It-it’s nothin’, darlin’.” 

“Don’t look like nothin’. Come on.” With enormous effort, you help Arthur up to his feet. Then you haul him to the doctor’s exam chair, push the doctor’s unconscious body out of it, and plop Arthur into it. 

“Okay, honey, stay with me. We gotta get this bullet out.” 

“I’m fine, sweetheart. Just… let’s get out of here. That sheriff’s an idiot, but even he must’ve heard them gunshots.” 

“I’ll be quick, Arthur. Just hold still.” 

You run around the room, gathering instruments and bandages. You find a set of long, thin tongs, the perfect shape to do the job. Removing a bullet is a nasty business. You had it done once when you’d been shot in the leg years ago. It was one of the most painful things you’ve ever endured. 

After gathering your things, you scour the doctor’s shelf up front. Micah peaks in.

“What the hell is taking so long? I talked the sheriff down since you couldn’t manage to keep things quiet.” 

“Shut the fuck up, Micah. Arthur’s been shot. Just keep an eye out, make sure no one gets nosy.” 

He rolls his eyes and leaves the room again. After hunting through the shelves, you come along a bottle of something labeled as aspirin. You’ve heard of this stuff, it was recently discovered to be a pain killer. You grab it and a bottle of unopened whiskey and go back to the room. 

You shove several pills down Arthur’s throat and then pour some alcohol onto his wound. He yells out in pain, but then you instruct him to drink it. 

“Arthur, this is gonna hurt like nothing else. But we gotta get this thing out,” you say sympathetically, holding the tongs. 

He’s sweating profusely, but he nods and grips the arms of his chair. You work the cogs of the chair so it leans back, giving you a better angle. Then you go to work. It’s excruciating pain for him and you apologize as tears leak from his eyes. You pour more whiskey on the wound as you work, but you have to dig a bit to find the bullet. Finally, you grab it and pull it out. He gasps as you hold it up. 

You quickly bandage him up, though you’re not satisfied with the job. Now there’s the problem of hiding his bloodied shirt so you can get him out of here. You help him to his feet and lead him to the front room and then quickly dash out to the horses, ignoring the blood on your hands. After retrieving his tan coat, you help him slide it on and then out to the horses. Micah’s waiting next to them, clearly impatient. 

“So much for me bein’ the one who starts the gunfire,” Micah growls. 

“Shut the fuck up before I put a bullet in your head,” you snarl. It takes all your strength to help Arthur up into his saddle, but he’s a trooper. He does his best to act normal as you all walk out of town, but it’s clear he’s in a lot of pain. 

As soon as he’s in Horseshoe Overlook, you walk him over to his cot and he plops down into it. He pants heavily and you put your hand on his chest, sitting down by his side. 

“Easy, honey. You can rest now.” 

He grabs your hand, comforted by your presence. Slowly, you undress him, flinging his ruined shirt to the side. After closing the flaps of the tent so the others won’t see him lying half naked in his bed, you rejoin his side. 

****************************************

Over the next couple of weeks, you care for Arthur, hardly letting him leave his cot. He keeps pleading with you to stop fussing over him, that he’s an adult who can care for himself, but he loves it. He loves how protective you’ve gotten over him. Hell, Micah isn’t even allowed on this side of camp anymore. He’d probably have better chances of fighting off a cougar than you. Even Sean knows not to come over and rib Arthur for being laid up, even though he means it all in good fun. 

Every day, you’ve gone out to collect fresh herbs from the surrounding area that will help with his pain. Not only that, but you usually bring back a rabbit or a turkey, some kind of small animal. Instead of giving them to Pearson though, you cook them over the scout fire and give Arthur as much as he can eat. He complains that he’s going to gain more weight than he’d like, but he secretly likes that you’re doing it. 

Every night, he pulls you into his arms, stating you can’t go around being strong for the both of you all day. You love cuddling with him like this, hearing his heartbeat beneath your head, his warm skin against yours, his fingers tracing your scalp or back. 

Of course, sometimes these evening cuddles lead to further activities, but you never let him be the dominant one. Usually he’s the top, but when he’s laid up like this, you won’t let him. Instead of being disappointed, he finds it incredibly sexy how you take control of things. He definitely intends to let things go this way after this. 

Hosea comes up to him one day while you’re out collecting herbs. He’s one of the few people who can safely walk this close to your tent without fear of getting their ass kicked. He takes a seat next to Arthur, who’s writing in his journal. 

“That girl eased up on you yet?” Hosea asks. 

Arthur smiles softly. “No. Honestly I don’t think she intends to until this is barely even a scar anymore.” He gestures down to his bandages. 

Hosea lets out a soft chuckle. “She’s tough, that girl. I’ve never seen Dutch so afraid of talking to someone before. Pretty sure she’s the only thing preventing him from coming over to you and begging you to get out there and ‘make us some money’.” 

Arthur laughs. “Dutch is scared of her, huh?” 

“You would be too if you saw how she looks at pretty much all of us. I’m surprised Micah’s still sticking around, honestly. She, uh, clocked him in the jaw the other night when he made it sound like you messed up in that doctor’s office.” 

“I did mess up, Hosea. I wasn’t prepared enough. I just thought it’d be some ranchers who got more money in their pockets than most folk in that town. I didn’t expect those damn O’Driscolls.” 

“It ain’t your fault, son. But you’ll be fine. Hell, you ain’t allowed to be anything else with that girl looking after you.” 

Arthur chuckles again. “So she really gave Micah a good one, huh?” 

“Oh yes. He’s got this big ol’ bruise on his face now. Like I said, I’m surprised he’s still in camp when she’s here.” 

“Hosea, I uh, I been thinkin’. I wanna marry her.” 

Hosea sits up straighter. “You sure? I know how your last engagement went, Arthur.” 

“That was completely different, Hosea. I was young and dumber then. This ain’t the same. Y/N ain’t Mary. She’s…. She’s far better, and she makes me feel like I ain’t just a killer and a bad man. I… I don’t know how to describe what I feel about her, Hosea. All I know is if I don’t ask her, it’ll be the biggest regret of my life.” 

Hosea smiles and puts his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Well, I’m happy for you, son. Being married was the best thing I ever did, and Y/N’s a special woman. You’d be a fool for not asking her.” 

Just then, Hosea looks up to see you coming over, your hands full of herbs. He waves to you, in which you return it. He gives Arthur a curt nod and heads off. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Arthur says, closing his journal. You return the greeting and sit down by his feet, getting your things together to start grinding the herbs up. 

“Hold on, sweetheart. Before ya get busy, come here.” 

“Why?” you say, looking up at him. 

“Just come here. Please?” he says, holding his arms out to you. 

With a soft smile, you get up and crawl into his arms, letting him fold them around you and hold you close. He kisses your head softly, never wanting to let you go. He wants to ask you right now to be his wife, but the timing feels wrong. He wants it to be special, wants you to know how much he adores you. 

“Thank you, darlin’, for everythin’ you done.”

“Of course, Arthur. I’d do it all over again if I needed to.” You place a soft kiss over his heart that makes him almost swoon. He knows now that he will never stop loving you. 

Just as he’s about to say something, Strauss comes over and interrupts. “Herr Morgan, I have another job for you.” 

“What is it, Strauss?” he asks, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“I lent money to a fellow named Downes. Thomas Downes. I need you to reclaim the debt. Beat him, if you must.” 

As quick as lightning, you leap up and glare at Strauss. Arthur’s told you how much he loathes this sharking business. You’re tired of it too. It’s a foul business and one you want him having no part of. 

“If this money’s so important to you, Strauss, why don’t you go get it yourself?” you snarl. 

He looks at you haughtily. “Because, Y/N, people are happy to take money from a man like me, but less willing to give it back.” 

“Well then maybe you need to grow a damn spine for once and do your own damn dirty work. Either that or find another way of making money for the gang. One with less… filth.” 

“I am the one feeding you and the other women in camp-” he begins but you shove him so hard he takes several steps back.

“Bullshit! How many days have Arthur spent out there slaving away to bring down animals and sling ‘em back to camp? You ain’t feedin’ no one but yourself! How many folks have we all robbed and stolen from, while you just go out peddling a few bucks here and there. You’re a sad, lyin’, miserable sack of shit who has no place here! No get out of my sight before I put a bullet in your skull!” 

Strauss, his eyes wide and his lizardish lips parted, starts heading away from you quickly, his tail between his legs. As he scurries off, you scream at him one last time.

“And if you ever tell my man to get your damn money back, I’ll throttle ya, is that clear?” 

He doesn't respond but you know he heard you. After letting out a long sigh, you turn back to Arthur, who’s looking at you surprised. 

“What?” you say.

He swallows. “Damn, darlin’, that was-” 

“Long overdue?” you say. 

“No, well yes, but I was gonna say that was one of the sexiest things I ever seen.” 

You blush and smile at him. 

“You got anymore of that energy left in ya?” he says, his eyes sliding down your body. 

“Why?” 

“‘Cause I was thinkin’ you better close these flaps and show me what else you got.” 

With a giggle, you do as he says. Then you take him so hard Arthur will never forget this afternoon. In fact, he will hold onto it for many years and on the days when he needs you physically but you aren’t around, he’ll use it to help relieve the pressure while being alone. 

As the two of you go at it, he wishes again to ask you to marry him, but you’ve got him groaning and panting so hard he can barely work out two words. One thing is clear to him though: not marrying you will be the dumbest thing he could possibly do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are greatly loved and appreciated! I've run out of clever ways to say "leave a comment".


	83. "I wasn't gonna rob ya"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: I was in Saint Denis and was doing the rob 5 town people challenge, when some woman started sassing me. Arthur grabbed her so her back was against his chest and put the gun to her head, saying "I wasnt gonna rob you but now I am." Could you write Arthur/reader where a few months later she ends up falling in with the camp and recognises his voice?

You watch as the ferry floats away from the pier. Your hand lowers as it would be impossible for your cousin to see you at this point. Part of you still wishes you could have gotten a ticket for this ferry, but at the same time, you’re glad you couldn’t. For the last few days, you’ve gotten a bad feeling about the boat. You doubted it was nothing, that you were just being silly, so you said nothing to your cousin. 

As you turn and look down the street at the town of Blackwater, you begin lightly humming to yourself. It couldn’t be a more beautiful day. You’ll miss your cousin, the two of you are good friends, but she lives in Saint Denis with her parents. You live here alone, but you don’t want to leave. Blackwater is all you’ve ever known. It’s where your parents are buried and where you grew up. 

You pass the barber’s shop and you get a sudden sense of dread, like there’s a heavy anticipation settling over the town. You can’t put your finger on as to why. Nothing seems wrong or out of place, plenty of people are milling about the town. It seems like a regular day. 

As you walk down the street, trying to ignore the unsettling feeling, you suddenly hear shouts and screams. A police officer on his horse runs past you, heading for the lake. He yells out “Ferry’s being robbed!” 

You watch in terror as people begin fleeing, cops swarming the streets and heading for the lake. Gun shots ring out. You begin backing up quickly and slam into someone hard. 

“Watch it, buddy,” you say, glaring at the man. Of course it wasn’t his fault, more yours than his really, but you’ve never been known for apologizing. Without warning, the man suddenly grabs you, pins your back to his chest, and he whips out his gun, pointing it to your temple. In the chaos surrounding you, no one stops to rescue you. 

“Now you listen here, miss,” he growls in your ear, his voice mixing with your heartbeats. “I wasn’t gonna rob ya, I was here to rob someone else. But now I have ya, hand over whatever ya got.” 

“Please, mister, I don’t have anything,” you plead, your hands scratching at his arm wrapped around your shoulders, but seem to have no effect. 

“Bullshit. You damn city folk always got somethin’. Now hand it over!” 

“Okay, okay!” You reach into your pocket and pull out the fifty dollars you had. You’d intended to use the money to pay down your house for this month. You stuff the bills into his hand.

“There, that weren’t so hard. Now get outta here, and don’t mention me!” He shoves you hard and runs towards the lake, following the footsteps of the officers. You don’t get a good look at his face. 

The incident of the double robbery terrifies you so much you stay out of Blackwater for the next few weeks. It’s alright anyways as the town is now swarmed by bounty hunters, officers and even Pinkertons, looking for the criminals. They wouldn’t be so bad, until the Governor declared that the town was going into complete lockdown. This meant that all businesses would be shut down until further notice and all residents must stay inside and even open their homes up to be searched in case anyone was housing fugitives. 

This turns out to be devastating for you. Your home sits on the outlying border of Blackwater where you run a very small dairy farm. You’ve always managed to make a decent living as everyone buys milk, but with this lockdown, no one comes. The government has even sent in supplies to the residents, such as milk and eggs, in order to keep everyone alive for the meantime. 

Blackwater, however, is not a cheap place to live anymore. Not ever since it stopped being a simple trading post, and it’s getting even more expensive now that the train station is being built. Even though businesses have stopped, bills haven’t. You still have to pay for the loan on your home as it wasn’t paid off when your parents died, and with no incoming money, your savings quickly dry up. 

Things go on this way for weeks, and your situation goes from bad to worse. The criminals have not been caught yet and there’s been no word on their whereabouts either, so the Pinkertons and bounty hunters haven’t left yet. Your situation is growing dire. Just last week, someone from the bank stopped by to remind you to pay this month’s amount towards your property. You tried to explain that with the lockdown, you no longer have the money. He claimed it wasn’t the bank’s problem and they expected their payment by the end of the month otherwise you risk losing the property. 

You would start selling milk again. Hell, these past few weeks all your supplies have basically been thrown away (the cows haven’t stopped milking after all). However, with the government giving out free milk and supplies, no one will pay for yours. You even try to sell the fact that the milk’s as fresh as it can be, but then the Pinkertons catch wind of your business and threaten to imprison you for it as all businesses are still shut down. They don’t care either when you explain your predicament. 

The month ends and on the first day, officials from the bank come and seize your property. It doesn’t matter how much you scream and fight, claiming it’s the city government’s fault as you could have paid if you’d been allowed to run your business. They don’t care and by the end of the day, you’re left sobbing in the dirt with the few possessions you could carry. How will you be able to survive? 

It’s clear that you can’t stay in Blackwater. There’s nothing left for you here except bad memories. It’s impossible to say how long this situation will last either. Instead of living on the streets, you decide to move to Valentine. Perhaps you can get a job as a waitress. You still have enough money that, even though you couldn’t pay for your house, maybe you can buy a cheaper property up there. Maybe even some cows and you can start over again. Besides, Valentine is a livestock town. You know livestock. 

However, when you get to Valentine, things don’t go as you planned. Sure, you got a job as a waitress in the saloon, but it doesn’t pay very much and there are no properties for sale near the town. The few that are for sale are far away and too much for you to afford. You ask the manager of the saloon (who’s also the bartender) if you can live in one of the rooms upstairs until your situation is sorted out.

“Unless you’re working in one of those rooms, I can’t afford to let you live there.” 

You know what he means by working in those rooms and you won’t stoop that low. You still have standards, after all. In the end, you have no choice but to sleep outside and work as much as possible during the days. You think things have hit an all time low. 

One afternoon, you’re waiting tables. A particularly rowdy group of ranch hands comes in and gets a table. They immediately flag you down and you sigh. These types of men are the worst, but if you play your cards right, they can pay some of the highest tips. Especially if you’re quick on refilling their drinks. 

Usually ranch hands don’t stay too long, but this group seems to want to stay. It’s been well over an hour and all of them have had their fair share of drinks, making them even louder and rowdier. As you approach them with more shots of whiskey, one man puts an arm around your waist and pulls you close. 

“Hey, how much for a night, missy?” he asks. 

“I don’t do that,” you say flatly. 

“Oh come on. Bet you’d do it for someone like me,” he says. 

“Why would I?” you glare down at him. 

“Because I’m the sheriff’s son, miss. I can get you anythin’ you want.” 

“Become the governor’s son and maybe I’ll think about it. And maybe think about becoming more than some ranch hand,” you snap and try pulling away. He just clenches your hips harder. 

“You hear how this girl talks to fellers like us?” he laughs to his friends. They guffaw and point at you. “Seriously, girl, I’ve made all the other women in this saloon swoon before.” 

“Well then go back to swooning them.” 

“Nah, been there, done that. I want you.” 

“Let go of me! I ain’t that kinda girl! Now take your drinks and get lost. All of you!” 

“Hey, you can’t talk to us like that!” one man says. “We’re patrons!” 

“I can, and I’m telling you all to get out!” You march over to the bar and tell the bartender your problem. He recognizes the man who was hitting on you and says that the sheriff’s cleaning his slate for some gambling problems, so he has to let his son stay. However, he doesn’t want you getting harassed, so he has one of the other girls cover for you. 

When your shift is done, you head outside to have a smoke and dreading the fact that it looks like it might rain tonight. You’re still sleeping practically on the streets, so it’ll be a bad night. As you stand and smoke, lost in thought, you don’t hear the footsteps behind you. 

Someone grabs you hard from behind, pinning you to their body. The sheriff’s son’s voice hisses in your ear, wreaking of alcohol. 

“Hey there, missy. Just the two of us now. How about we skip talk of pay and just get down to business, hmm?” 

His hand suddenly gropes you and you kick him in the shin. He yelps in pain and you push away from him. “I told you I ain’t that kind of girl! Now get lost before I tell your daddy what you do to women.” 

His face scrunches in rage and he lunges at you, knocking you onto your back. You try fighting him but he’s much stronger and he’s got the upper hand. His hands pin your arms down as he tries kissing you, so you headbutt him. One hand releases your arm to press on his bleeding nose and you take the opportunity, grabbing his cattleman revolver, pointing it at his gut, and firing. 

The bang echoes against the building, and you quickly throw him off of you. He writhes for a few seconds, a gurgling coming out of his mouth. You watch in shock as he draws his last breath. You certainly hadn’t meant to kill him. 

The door to the saloon slams open and the bartender steps out. He looks at the body, you standing over it with the gun still in your hand. 

“I…. I…” you stammer, not knowing what to say. 

“My God, Y/N! You killed him!”

“He attacked me!” you say. 

“Sheriff’s gonna lose his mind about this! He’s not one to mess around with the law, but when he hears about his boy… oh, Y/N, this is bad!” 

“But he attacked me! I didn’t mean to kill him!” 

The bartender comes over and smacks the pistol out of your hand. “You best get out of here, Y/N. I weren’t the only one who heard that gunshot. Sheriff or one of his deputies will be here any second and if they find you like this…. You’ll be hung by the end of the week. Go on, get outta here. I’ll come up with something.” 

Without hesitating, you run off. He’s right of course, now that you’ve killed a man you can’t stay here. You run as fast as you can, heading south, but it doesn’t take long for you to lose your breath. By the time you hunker down, a painful stitch in your side, you realize how bad things have gotten. As the reality of it all sets in, you begin to sob. 

You killed a man. Sure, he’d been attacking you and if he’d lived, he’d surely have done something truly terrible, but the fact remains. A man is dead because of you. Not only that, but the likelihood of the sheriff discovering the truth is a guaranteed problem. His son’s friends surely must have seen him coming after you. They’d know you’re his most likely killer, and they won’t have a problem telling the sheriff. You’re in big trouble. 

The weight of this all forces you down to your knees and you sob harder. What can you possibly do? Should you head on to another town? But which one? So far, you haven’t had any luck being able to afford a new home. You just can’t seem to dig yourself out of this hole. 

You hear a voice. “Ma’am? Ma’am, you okay?” 

You look up and see an elderly man. His clothes are rough, dirty and torn in places. He’s got a bulbous nose and a thick gray beard and a wide belly. His eyes, though dark, have a kind look to them. 

“I… I killed him.” The words slip out of your mouth. 

“Killed who?” he asks. 

“The sheriff’s son. I… I killed him. It was an accident.” 

“Oh so you’re the one they’re looking for.” Fear stabs you in the stomach. This quick and you already have a bounty on you. He straightens up and looks down the road at Valentine. “You say it was an accident?” 

You nod, getting to your feet and preparing to run. He’s an old man, he won’t be able to catch you easily. “Yeah. Bastard was trying to rape me, so I shot him.” 

The man blinks. “Sounds like you’re in a bad way. Heard he was the sheriff’s son. Say, I don’t do this for everyone, but why don’t you come with me? I got a place you can stay until you get things figured out.” 

“You aren’t planning on raping me too, are you? No offense, but I’m not in the mood to trust many men right now.” 

“Don’t be thick, come on now. I live with a big group. Sure, there’s quite a few men, but I promise ain’t one of ‘em gonna touch ya. Especially when they hear you’ve already killed the man who tried to get ya.” 

Instead of feeling suspicious, you can’t help but trust this man. He leads you down the trail towards a large copse of trees. As he walks into them, he turns to you. 

“Think you’ll fit right in with us, miss. Everyone I live with has got a record behind ‘em. Hell, some of ‘em have killed more people than I’m even capable of counting, but don’t tell ‘em I said that.” 

“So, you run with a gang of outlaws?” you say, feeling nervous again. 

“That’s how you might choose to see it, but they’re alright really. Come on, I’ll introduce you.” 

The old man leads you into a clearing. There you see several wagons and a few tents. Despite the hour, there’s still plenty of people milling about. A man sits at a round table with two women, a guitar in his hand and he’s singing in Spanish. Around one of the fire’s further away is a man in a plaid shirt talking to some other men. Not too far, near a tent, a woman sits next to a small boy, who’s playing in the dirt with a stick. 

“Uncle!” a loud voice calls out. It seems to be directed to the man guiding you in. You look to see the owner of the voice. A tall, well groomed man with dark hair marches over to you, followed by a thin, gangling man with gray hair and a thoughtful face. “Uncle, what the hell are you doing? I said no more passengers!” 

“Hey, hey, relax Dutch! Just a girl, got in a spot of trouble in town, figured she needed some help.” 

“We can’t afford to feed any more mouths, you old goat!” 

“What kind of trouble?” says the gray haired man. The two men look at you curiously. You realize they’re waiting for you to say something. 

“I…. I killed the sheriff’s son. He was attacking me, so I shot him. It was an accident.” 

Another man saunters over. He’s a broad man with curious blue eyes, a leather hat and a blue striped shirt. He smokes a cigarette, the other hand on his gun belt. 

“What’s goin’ on?” he asks. His voice sounds horribly familiar. You try to pin down where you recognize it from. 

“Uncle brought this girl in, says she killed the sheriff’s son,” the gray haired man says. 

“That so?” the blue eyed man says. “Well, we got enough trouble, Uncle. Think you better take her back there. Let the sheriff deal with her.” 

It suddenly clicks where you know him from. “You! You’re the man who robbed me in Blackwater!” 

The man blinks and lowers his brow, clearly confused. “What?” 

“You robbed me in Blackwater! The day that ferry got robbed! You’re the reason I lost my house!” 

“I didn’t make you lose your house, miss.” 

“Bullshit! You pointed a gun at my head and made me hand over everything I had. That money was gonna pay for my house for the next month! I’d still be living there if it weren’t for you!” 

Anger courses through you and you want to hit this man. The dark haired man, Dutch you think Uncle called him, looks at the man. 

“Is this true, Arthur?” 

“Well, sure I robbed a gal down in Blackwater. She was sassin’ me, so I robbed her.”

“I lost everything. Everything because of you!” 

“All you had was fifty bucks, hardly anything.” 

“That was my month’s payment on my house! Then the goddamn town went into lockdown and I couldn’t make money, so the bank took my house back! Way I see it, you owe me, buddy!” 

You’re shaking and quite a few people in the gang have gathered, drawn to your yelling. 

“Wait, explain the situation in Blackwater,” the gray haired man asks. You tell him. Dutch and the man trade almost remorseful looks. You stand there, waiting for them to tell you to get lost. Instead, Dutch turns to the man he addressed as Arthur. 

“You heard her, son. We owe her. Miss Grimshaw? Please show her a place to stay. What’s your name, girl?” 

You’re shocked by this turn of events, but you tell him. A middle aged woman with a stern face comes over. She gestures for you to come over to her and then she puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. 

“Come along, dear. We can get you settled. Sounds like you’ve had quite the ordeal.” 

She doesn’t ask you for further details nor does she explain anything about her gang. She just shows you to a spot under a canvas where three other girls sleep. They pull out a bedroll and spread it, allowing you to lie down. When you do, you realize how exhausted you are. Despite all the things that have happened, you fall quickly to sleep.

*********************************************

The next few days are a confusing blur. Most of the members are curious, especially when they hear that you lived in Blackwater and had an unfortunate run in with Arthur, who you’re still convinced is the one who sent you on this downward spiral. 

Grimshaw explains that this gang cannot carry people who don’t work (which is odd because you haven’t seen Uncle do a thing besides drink and play his banjo), so she sets you to work at a wagon run by a man named Pearson, the camp cook. As you set down to chopping vegetables, Arthur walks over, looking sheepish. 

“Um, ma’am, I uh I wanted to apologize. For robbin’ you. Guess… guess I been robbin’ folk so long it just comes natural.” 

“I heard Dutch sayin’ you folks only rob from the rich in order to help the poor. I was never a rich woman, Mr. Morgan.” 

He lowers his head. “I know. I figured since you was in Blackwater you had money to spare. I’m sorry. I know that if I hadn’t taken your money, you’d probably still have a home. You wouldn’t be in this mess. But I got you this. I know it won’t get you your house back, but maybe it can help somehow.” 

He hands you a wad of cash. After counting it, you find it’s well over sixty dollars. You look up at him. “You’re right, it won’t get me my life back, Arthur. But I appreciate the gesture.” 

He swallows a bit. “Well, I just wanted to let you know, you’re welcome to stay with us for as long as you want. I’m gonna vouch for ya, I at least owe you that. And if there’s anything else you need, let me know.” 

You thank him and he walks away. You feel a great weight lift from your shoulders. Your crimes from the other night won’t be erased, but at least you’re not having to be alone to deal with it. You have the possibility of making friends here with this gang out outlaws. After all, you are one yourself it seems. You suddenly wonder where your life might lead now that you’ve started down this path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's two things that keep a writer going: coffee and feedback. I got plenty of coffee.


	84. Left for dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hi sorry I'm greedy, but I bumped into the night folk (and the ghost) last night. I know you've written horror before... plus maybe reader is a new convert to the group and Arthur has to decide whether to kill you now or try to help... (ooft reader as a serial killer seeing how good Arthur is)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: gore, blood

All is dark. The perfect time of day, when the only source of light is the stars and the flickering of the lightning bugs. From somewhere to your right, a low growl comes from the swamp. The gators are out hunting, just like you. 

This is all still quite new to you, but you’re adapting well. This hunting in the night, setting traps for the witless wanderer. Sometimes their screams haunt you, but you like the look of fear in their eyes when the trap has been sprung and they see you and the others approaching, ready for the kill. Those moments are the most telling of a person’s character. Are they cowards who tremble and hunker in the dark, or are they fighters, ready to take as many of you down with you? The hunt is when everyone’s obsessions with appearing a certain way come tumbling down and all that is left is their raw selves. 

You’re still new to the gang who the locals have begun to call the Night Folk. You silently call them that too as you don’t know what they call themselves. Talk is rare even in your hideout at Lakay. In fact the only time you heard one talk was when you’d accidentally wandered into Lakay at night and they captured you. They must have seen something in you when they trapped you. Perhaps a certain excitement or a general lack of fear. After all, you’ve never been afraid of death. More fascinated by it than anything. 

When the gang decided not to kill you, they had to test your abilities when it came to slaughter. They happened to have a live prisoner, so a man handed you a big machete, pointed to you then to him and the man and said one word: “kill”. You did just that and found that you were fascinated with the human body. 

The man, as a man, was uninteresting to you, but watching how the human body reacted on a biologic level as you murdered him was fascinating. You hadn’t done anything too awful, just slit his throat. Still, you’ll never forget the intense curiosity you felt at watching as his limbs flailed as the blood slipped down his body. How his eyes bulged and his jaw clenched. The Night Folk seemed pleased with your results and ended up incorporating you. 

Still, talk is rare. The most anyone speaks is when a trap is being set, but even then it’s minimal. Usually just a “you pretend to be injured, cry out for help” or “whistle like a bird, confuse the rider’s horse”. 

The Night Folk themselves are interesting. They have no leadership. Everyone is completely equal, even when it comes to things like eating and sex, both in the social and physical aspect of sex. Orgies tend to be a common thing with them, but as you’re a newby, you’re not allowed to participate, which is just fine. They may not have a leadership, but newcomers must earn their right to participate in all gang activities. In fact, you’re not even allowed to kill anyone when a trap is set. You’re the one who acts as lookout for when a new target heads your way. 

It’s uncertain how long you have to be the lowest person on the totem pole, but you don’t complain. You’ve never been a very talkative person anyways, and perhaps you’ve always had something sick living in you because you’ve always had a fascination with the human body, putting aside the knowledge that they feel, think and have a complex form of conscience. You could care less about them as you’d care for a fly being swatted. 

Despite the Night Folk having no leadership, they have tight bonds with one another. However, you have not gained that right yet. You’ve tried pushing yourself up into their ranks, even tried to dive into the slaughter when a trap has been sprung, but the results have not been good. The more seasoned members got extremely aggressive towards you and chased you off, threatening to butcher you next. 

It’s this lack of concern for you on their part that ends up getting you into trouble. Living in the swamps has plenty of risks. The gators are the most obvious of course, but there’s also snakes and biting bugs that can carry diseases. Boars can also be a problem as they spook easy and will sometimes bash their tusks into the thing that’s threatening them. Every once in a while, a panther will wander into the area. They are the most frightening, as they’re silent and cunning. It’s impossible to hunt one as they blend in so seamlessly. Luckily they don’t come this far down too often. 

You’re standing on the fork of a road. It’s foggy out tonight, providing the perfect cover. You’re watching for any travelers coming down the road, and pretty soon you see one coming down the path. You let out a low whistle, alerting the others of his presence. The man is instantly on edge. You decide to test him, see how curious or wary he is. After all, this section of the forest is known for its ghosts. Not only that, but he won’t see you. You’re too well camouflaged. All Night Hunters paint themselves when preparing a trap. 

“I still love you,” you call out. You’ve heard a spirit calling this out before and even see the ghostly apparition of a young woman. 

The man instantly stops. “Someone there?” he calls out. His voice says that he’s alert. 

“Come back to me,” you say. 

The man unwittingly begins coming towards the sound of your voice. “Miss, are you hurt?” Just a little closer. 

“Come home,” you plead. He’s feet away from you and still can’t see you hidden in the foliage. 

Suddenly the others are on him. They stalk over to him, not running. They don’t need to. With their camouflage and the heavy fog, there’s no need. He doesn’t see them until it’s too late, and even his horse doesn’t. It gets spooked, sure, but it fails to spot them until they’re onto him. 

The man yells out in fright as the others pull him off his horse, throwing him into the mud. You watch in excitement as they begin beating him, then hacking at him with their machetes. He pulls out his gun, preparing to shoot one, but his hand is smacked away and the gun points in your direction. It goes off suddenly and something slams into you, just above your right hip. Pain rips through you like you’ve never experienced and you fall, letting out a grunt of pain. The others don’t hear it as they’re killing the man, but you’re in trouble. 

As they finish killing their man, you try to stand but can’t due to the excruciating pain. Three of the men take the kill and begin strapping it to a tree, a warning to others passing this way. Then the signal is given that it’s time to find a new spot. You end up hobbling your way onto the path, a hand pressed over the wound as blood seeps onto your fingers. 

The others see and what they do next is a surprise. You thought that by this point they’d value you enough to try and help. Instead, they turn on you. They start kicking you, knocking you down. A loud crack comes from your left arm, signalling its break. You scream and try to fight them off, but there’s too many. 

When you think it’s over, they stop and one of them grabs you by your hair and drags you to a new section of the swamp about a hundred yards away. They position you onto the soggy grass and put a lantern down. Then, to be sure you can’t run, one takes his machete and cuts your thigh. The gash is deep and you holler in pain. 

You don’t understand why they’re doing this, then it becomes obvious. They’ve no means nor desire to care for their wounded, so rather than fight the inevitability of death, they’re using you as bait. For what though is unclear. It can’t be for gators, most of them are too lazy to come this far out of the water to eat. Boars, maybe. They’ll happily eat a person who can’t defend themselves. 

The Night Folk suddenly scurry off, back into the foliage. You know they’re not running, but hiding. You try calling for them, your body burning in pain, but they ignore you. You try getting up, but the bullet wound, your broken arm and gashed leg completely prevent it. You’re stuck here, and you don’t like it. You feel like one of the dozens of people you’ve lured into a trap, and the fear they must’ve felt comes into you. It’s not fun. 

Despite your best efforts, you begin to cry. This must be what they want anyways. The sounds of a woman sobbing would lure in any unwitting person. It works. 

After a rather short period, another man comes down the path. He’s not dressed like some city man, but rather a man of the wild. A man who’s been many places and seen many things. You feel the urge to not let these bastards who’ve betrayed you get another kill, not on your watch, but you can’t help the sobs. 

“Ma’am, you a’right?” the man calls out. His horse paws the trail nervously. Surely it senses the danger. You want to tell him to leave, to save himself, but you can’t. The idea of uttering a single word seems as impossible as walking. “You hurt?” 

He prods his horse to get closer to you, and once again you try to tell him to leave. He keeps asking if you’re okay, and you keep on failing to say anything. He’s about ten feet away and looks like he’s about to dismount when they attack. 

The Hunters start their slow stalking out of their hiding spots, wielding their machetes. The horse roars in anger. Clearly this man has been in many dangerous situations as he notices the danger almost immediately. He pulls out a shotgun and kicks his horse into a trot, becoming a moving target. As the Night Folk carry no aerial weapons, they’re left with chasing his horse. The man clearly has the upper hand though and he quickly takes them down. 

“Creepy bastards!” he grunts as the last one falls. He looks at you, disgust on his face. You realize that this man is your only hope at surviving at this point. He puts his shotgun in its holster on his saddle. 

“You,” he says harshly. “You one of them Night Folk.” 

He waits for you to respond but you don’t, other than to whimper. 

“Say something right now or I’m leavin’. You can fend off them gators alone.” 

You try again to speak but can’t. You’re in too much pain. He throws you a look of contempt and kicks his horse into a walk. 

“Help,” you somehow manage to say. “Help me!” 

The man stops and looks at you. “You ain’t gonna try to kill me, are ya?” 

Tears leak from your eyes. “N-no. I can’t.” 

He sighs and dismounts. He keeps one hand on his gun as he slowly approaches you. When he’s close, he inspects your body. The odd angle your arm is lying in, the bleeding wounds on your thigh and hip. 

“You’re in bad shape. What happened?” 

“Got… got shot. They turned on me.” 

“Those lousy bastards. Well, I can help ya, but you have to promise me you won’t try killing anyone. You do and I won’t hesitate to put a bullet in your head.” 

You nod and he leans over. Instead of helping you up, he quickly searches you, making sure you have no weapons. You don’t, so then he picks you up, making you wince and grunt in pain and he apologizes. After settling you on the back of his horse, he mounts up in front and canters down the path. You clutch to him with your good arm and somehow manage not to black out. 

After a while, he slows the horse down and rides up on an old cabin. You recognize it a bit as it sits not too far from the swamps you and the other Night Folk occupied. An older woman, who looked like a gunslinger, used to live there until she just left one day, the land surrounding her cabin littered with bodies. You thought nothing of it, but the cabin’s sat empty since. 

The man carries you into the cabin and settles you down on a dingy, old mattress, damp from the humid air. You cradle your arm to your body. He inspects your injuries a little closer. 

“Bet you still got that bullet in ya. That, uh, needs to come out.” 

You shift away from him, knowing it’s going to hurt like hell. He starts looking around and finds a file which he then heats up over a candle he lit. Then, he approaches you with the hot file. You scoot away from him, your eyes boring into the file. 

As he starts instructing you to lay down so he can help. Maybe it’s a result of spending time with the Night Folk or maybe your fight-or-flight instincts kick in, but you’re suddenly standing up and lunging at him, waving your good arm around, trying to strike him and you yowl like a wildcat. The man fends you off, and suddenly his fist pummels into your face, knocking you back onto the bed and into a world of darkness. 

******************************************

Hours pass and you finally come to. Your body is in a lot of pain and you’re lying on your back, settled on the bed. When your vision clears, you scan the cabin and find it empty. The man’s gone and early morning light streams through the tattered curtains. 

You look down at your body and see that you’re bandaged in multiple places. That man, dispute you attacking him, must have done this. You inspect the bullet wound and figure he must have gotten it out. Your arm’s in a tight cast and in a sling. Guilt floods you as you knew he was just trying to help, but after what your old gang did, it’s no surprise you didn’t trust him much. 

On the night stand beside the bed sits a bottle of whiskey which holds a folded piece of paper. You unfold it and read: 

“I don’t know if you can read, but if you can, I just wanted to let you know you should be safe for now and I’m sorry for having to knock you out. However, I strongly advise you to get away from here. Them folks who turned on you are likely to still want you dead. 

If you are wise, you’ll try ending up with better folk. I myself run with a gang, and I thought about bringing you to them as you seem to need the protection, but the honest truth is I can’t trust you not to kill any of them. There are days I want to kill some of them, so forgive me for not trusting you.”

There is no signature, but you feel even more ashamed. Here is a man who was willing to bring you to run with his gang, as you’ve never been a fan of following laws yourself, yet even among outlaws you’re an outcast. You decide from here on out, you want to get cleaned up. Not go straight, necessarily, but just enough that you can be trusted. After all, a life of isolation is no life at all. 

As the man recommended, you decide to leave the swamps when you’re healed enough. However, it takes a long time for travel as you’ve no horse, but after a few weeks, you end up in the Cumberland Forest. It’s a lovely place and you find yourself enjoying the hot, dry air rather than the humidity. 

As far as your behavior goes, you don’t change so much in that you rob and sometimes kill people. You just don’t put them on display the way you did with the Night Folk. Often you still feel that intense curiosity as to the human body and lack of empathy. However, you know that your behaviors are not normal so you curb your desires to study the corpses you create as you know it will only lead to trouble. 

Years have passed since you were saved by that man. You haven’t seen him since, but you did hear, only a few months after he saved you, of a gang being chased out of a place called Beaver Hollow and that a man died during the escape. Part of you wonders if he knew the man who saved you, but you’ve no way of knowing since you never even learned his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love talking to my readers!


	85. Arthur comforts reader - modern AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hey I know it's like 3:30 in the morning and not TECHNICALLY Memorial Day anymore, but I was wondering if you could do a request thats kinda angsty if you're okay with that. Maybe kinda fluffy Arthur who's comforting a reader who cant afford their therapist anymore? Only if you're ok with it.

Tears leak down your face as you put down your phone. The voice of the insurance agent rings in your ears still. Words like “discontinued coverage” and “maximum usage” echo in your mind. What are you supposed to do? 

Desperate for help, you call your therapist’s office. They’ll certainly be willing to help you, won’t they? After all, their slogan drawls on about mental health and how anyone can be helped. Just because your insurance is being ridiculous doesn’t mean you still can’t get the help you need. 

A voice answers and you explain to the receptionist of your therapist’s office your predicament, that your insurance will no longer cover your sessions. After asking for details about billing in the future, she hits you with another brick. The payments they’ll be demanding for sessions without insurance is far more than you can afford, and they’ll be asking for it on a bimonthly basis. 

“But I cannot afford that!” you say to her. “Please, when I first started with my doctor, I signed a paper stating that arrangements would be made should my coverage or insurance change! Why is that not being honored?” 

She gives you some spiel about how the quote she gave you a moment ago is a deduction of the normal amount they bill patients. 

“If you still cannot afford the amount I told you, we can give you recommendations of elsewhere to go that may be more affordable.” 

“But I don’t want a new therapist! Mine is working out just fine! I doubt that other doctors will be just as helpful. Please there must be something that can be done!” 

“I’m sorry, miss, but there’s not much I can do. Listen, let me speak with Doctor Sculzman and I will see what we may be able to do. You will be contacted once your situation is explained and a plan of action can be taken.” 

She hangs up the phone before you can say anything else. Dread courses through you and you sink down onto the couch, your hands over your face. What will you do now? It took you long enough to first of all determine that you needed a therapist and then to find your current one. You went through three to find her and she’s the first to help you with your problems, how to cope with them, and how to change them. Despite the length of time you’ve spent with her, you feel that you still have miles to go and you need her help to get through them. You don’t want to sink back down, not when you’ve crawled out of this hole as far as you have. 

Your boyfriend Arthur peaks around the corner. You hadn’t even heard him come in. His hair’s soaked and his button, though tucked in, is halfway unbuttoned. He looks like he’s just finished taking a shower. 

“Everything okay, sweetheart?” he asks. 

Your lips trembles, but you nod. However, you feel a little hurt that he didn’t check on you before showering. You tell him this. 

“I asked you when I came in, but you didn’t say anything. You were on the phone, so I didn’t wanna bother you further.” 

“You… you did?” you ask. 

He nods and he takes a step further into the room. “What’s goin’ on, darlin’?” 

You sniff and put your head into your hands again. “I… I can’t afford my therapy anymore. My insurance sent me around in circles and basically told me I’ve used up all my coverage. My doctor’s office won’t give me a straight answer either. I don’t know what to do anymore!” 

You begin to sob and you feel the couch beside you sink as Arthur sits. His hand settles on your shoulder. He knows a bit about the problems you’re getting help for, though not all the details. 

“That’s bad business, darlin’, I’m real sorry. I wish there was somethin’ I could do.” His hand rubs over your back and you know he’s trying to reassure you. “If your doctor really cares about her patients like she claims, she’ll work with ya, sweetheart. Don’t give up hope yet.” 

You lower your hands and nod, but don’t bother wiping your cheeks dry. 

“Hey, look at me, darlin’.” Arthur gently guides your head around so he can see your face. His eyes grow sad and then he guides you over so your head is settling on his bare and warm chest. His hand settles on your head, cradling you to him, while his other hand pats your back. 

“It’s gonna be okay, darlin’. Like I said, if your doc really cares, she’ll help ya out. Ya can’t tell me you’re the first who’s run into these problems.” 

“But I can’t talk to her until this is all sorted out,” you sniff, soaking up his warmth. You’ve been seeing your doctor every week until now. 

“I know, but… I know I ain’t exactly qualified or certified or whatever the hell ya wanna call it, but… I can try to help ya. I just want ya happy, sweetheart. I know I probably won’t be able to help half as good as her, but I can still lend an ear.” 

“Arthur, you don’t wanna hear about my problems.” You don’t really feel like going into the complexity that, even though you love him more than anyone else, there are some things you only want to tell your therapist. 

“You’d be surprised, sweetheart. I ain’t gonna judge ya, darlin’. Last word I’d use to describe you is weak or pathetic. You’re one of the strongest people I know.” 

He continues telling you words of encouragement and it does help a little. He holds you like this for the longest time, to the point you wonder if his arm or leg has fallen asleep. If they have, he doesn’t show it. 

After a while, the both of you fall silent and Arthur just embraces you. It’s a good thing he wasn’t fully dressed when he started, the physical contact between yours and his skin has a rather reassuring effect. He smells comforting, too. So much time passes that, despite your worries, you start to fall asleep. Arthur just kisses your forehead and tells you to rest if you want. 

“Everythin’ will get better soon, darlin’. I promise. No matter what happens, I’ll always be here for ya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are wonderfully appreciated!


	86. Apples vs. Pomegranates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: somethin fluffy where f!reader is self conscious bc her ta-tas aren’t quite as sizeable as say Karen’s (self projecting here😅34B) and Arthur finally gets her to tell him what’s bothering her and comforts her about it🤍🤍🤍love you!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: light smut

Standing in the store, you look at the blouses offered. Of course, Valentine is not perhaps the best choice to buy clothes in, but they have a decent selection. Still, you feel a sinking in your stomach. There’s a couple of shirts you see, but they really would look better if you had…. Well, you don’t, so there’s no point in wishing. 

You decide to try and clear your mind of your body issues by going into the saloon to get a drink. Perhaps you can nurse them away with a couple of beers. When you enter though, you see another thing to bring them right back to the surface of your mind. A young woman stands at the bar. She’s clearly a saloon girl, her clothes and her mannerisms say it. Her back’s to the bar and she’s leaning on it, thrusting out her goods. Not that she needs much help, her chest is so huge it’d be impossible to miss. 

You bite your lip and look away, trying not to feel bad. Even over your beer, you can’t help but glance her way occasionally and feel some jealousy. You’ve never been big chested and it’s caused some self issues. Sure, you’ve talked about it with Karen, who’s one of the bustiest women you know. She may have told you that they’re not all they’re cracked up to be, that they cause back problems and attract unwanted attention. Still, you can’t help but feel like bigger ones would be better than your small ones. 

Your mind drifts to your boyfriend Arthur and your heart sinks further. He’s a wonderful man and an even better lover. Thoughtful, gentle, protective, loyal. You never have to worry about him running off or getting hurt. He’s handsome too, though that’s just an added bonus. You wish you could say the same about yourself. Sure, Arthur knows he can trust you not to go around flirting with other guys and that you’re good at getting yourself out of trouble. Still, you wish you could give him the perfect body. 

As you sit at the bar and just stare at your beer bottle, you don’t hear the saloon doors swing open. Someone stands next to you and flings a couple of quarters onto the bar. 

“Gimme a beer, will ya?” the familiar voice says and you smile, looking up to see Arthur. He smiles back at you, his blue eyes soft. “You gonna drink that or just stare at it all day, darlin’?” 

You let out a soft laugh and then finally pick up your bottle, taking a swig from it. 

“You doin’ okay, darlin’?” he asks, drinking from his after the bartender sets it down. “You been real quiet last couple of days.” 

“I’m fine, Arthur.” 

He notices how your eyes dart to the saloon worker, who’s busy reeling a potential client in. She’s still thrusting out her chest. Arthur looks back at you, his brow furrowed. 

“You look like she did some wrong by you, sweetheart. Did she?” 

You blink and look up at him. “Oh… n-no, she didn’t. Don’t think she even noticed me, which why would she? Don’t think I’m her type.” 

He laughs and sets down his bottle again. “Think you might be right, though you never know. Sometimes these ladies surprise you.” 

“Well, even if I were, she ain’t mine. She’s too…. Pretty.” 

Arthur furrows his brows again and looks at her, much to your discontent. His eyes return to you. “What she got that you don’t? Personally, I always had a soft spot for (your hair color). Her hair’s too red, her nose is too big. I like the way you look.” 

His fingers brush over your hand, barely touching it so it sets your skin on fire. Goosebumps prickle up your arm and you can’t help but smile and shiver a little. He knows this too, that’s why he did it. 

“But don’t you think she has nice…” you say and then you cup your hands directly over your own chest to signify big boobs. He looks down at your hands. 

“Come with me,” he says and grabs your hand. He tips his hat to the bartender as a gesture of farewell. 

“Where you takin’ me?” you say. 

“You’ll see.” 

He leads you over to the hotel and pays for a room. What in the world is he doing? It can’t be later than 2 in the afternoon and you aren’t even tired. Arthur says nothing as he takes you up the stairs and into the room. Once there, he shuts the door and then he puts his hands on your shoulders. Slowly, he turns you around so your back is to him. 

In front of you sits a full length mirror and you can see your entire body, except your shoes. Arthur, taller than you, smiles when your eyes meet his. 

“I want ya to look at yourself, darlin’. Try seein’ yourself the way I see you.” 

“I… I can’t, Arthur, because I don’t know how you see me.” 

He smiles again. “I see an incredibly strong, amazin’ woman. Someone who can take care of herself, who don’t take nothin’ from nobody. I see the most beautiful woman. If I had the ability to make the perfect woman for me to fall in love with, she wouldn’t even be half as incredible as you. And as far as these go…” 

His hands slide down from your shoulders and to the buttons of your shirt. Slowly, he unbuttons it and slides it off of you, but you let him. You’re transfixed by his smile. When your shirt flaps down to the floor, his hands come back up and grab your chemise, pulling it down to reveal your chest. Standing half naked now in front of the mirror, Arthur puts his hands back on your shoulders and rubs the soft skin there. 

“I think they’re perfect,” he says, his voice gentle. “I wouldn’t have them any other way. No other shape or size. I could spend a thousand years starin’ at ‘em and not get tired.” 

Slowly his hands slide down again and he cups your breasts, gently squeezing them and he plays with your stiff nubs. He lets out a satisfied sigh and then he starts kissing your neck. Your head tilts back onto his shoulder as he touches you. His fingers burn your skin, sending you into a simmer that begins making you want more, more of his touch and in other places. 

Just as you’re acknowledging your own sudden desires, you feel something hard pressing into your lower back. There’s no denying what it is. Arthur’s hands leave your chest and he turns you around, his eyes gluing themselves to your nipples. He slowly goes down to his knees and takes one of your nubs into your mouth, sucking on it just hard enough to make you hiss. It feels good though and you tilt your head back, your hands winding into his hair, pulling on the locks. 

He focuses on one breast for a few moments, and then he moves to the other, trying to give them equal attention. After a short while, he slips your nipple from his lips and looks up at you. You can see in his eyes what he wants to do now, so you kneel down in front of him, ripping his own shirt open and then kissing him hard. 

The two of you don’t even make it to the bed before you’re fully unclothed and writhing in each other’s grasps. Arthur makes sure to give your chest lots of attention, trying to prove to you that he doesn’t think you’re not good enough. He loves you exactly the way you are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, y'all, feedback is the thing that keeps me going on these! When I get into a funk and think I might be done, seeing new comments is the thing that always brings me back!


	87. Transgender reader (m -> f) - Modern AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: If you're doing requests can you do a kind of complicated one for me? Is there anyway you can do a transgender reader (m to f) x Arthur where Arthur realizes they're trans but still loves and accepts them? I'm doing this for my friend and I think she'd really [appreciate] it :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, y'all this is my first trans piece so I know I got some things wrong. If there is anything that needs to be fixed to make it more accurate or if I've written anything that is potentially offensive, please let me know! It's not based on anti-trans, trust me, it's just ignorance. That being said, if you are an anti-trans person, do not say anything to me about this. Trans people are people just like you and me and deserve the same treatments and rights. 
> 
> To any trans readers, I want you to know that I fully support you and I think you are incredible. To anyone who says you're wrong for making the decisions to show who you are, it is not their responsibility nor their privilege. That belongs only to you.

Arthur closes the door of the bathroom, listening to you whistle while you make yourself some lunch. He loves hearing you whistle, knowing it means you’re happy. As he relieves himself, he thinks about how happy he is with you. 

As he begins washing his hands, you walk past the door. He hears you ask him to grab your hairband in one of your drawers, but you must not have heard him when he asked which one. Instead of demanding which one, he just begins ruffling through them. In the third one down on the wall, he finds a prescription bottle. Strange, he had no idea you had prescriptions. Curiosity gets the better of him and he reads the label. It says ampicillin. Looking again in the drawer, he finds a few more prescription bottles with other names he can’t pronounce. 

Not knowing what it means, he pulls out his phone and types the name into it, but decides he’ll look up the result in a minute so you don’t get suspicious. He quickly finds your hairband and comes out, giving it to you. 

While you’re busy finishing up lunch, he plops onto the couch and googles your meds. Instantly, his phone comes up with stating that it’s a drug to increase estrogen levels. Why would you need estrogen boosts? He looks up the other names and quickly comes to the conclusion that you’re taking boosts in female hormones, but there’s another pill you have that lowers male hormones. What in the world? 

Instantly his heart starts pumping. Is there something you’re hiding from him? You walk out of the kitchen with your food in hand, beaming at him. He returns it briefly but then his face falls again. 

As you sit beside him and flip on the TV to find something to watch on Netflix, you glance over and see the concerned expression on his face. 

“You okay, Arthur?” you ask. 

He puts his phone down. “Yeah. Except… I think we need to talk.” 

“Okay,” you say in a neutral tone. He’s never done this before. 

He sits up a little straighter and sighs. “I uh saw somethin’ in the bathroom drawers that I think we need to talk about. Darlin’, are you sick?” 

“Sick? Why would you think that?” Your heart’s pumping though. You thought your medicines would be safe in that drawer, that Arthur would feel no need to look in that one since you told him your monthly lady things were in there, although it was a lie. 

“Because I saw a bunch of medicines in there. Prescriptions,” he said. 

You swallow hard, feeling your face pale. “Uh… no, no I’m not sick. They’re… they’re…” 

Fuck, you haven’t told Arthur the truth. You were planning to eventually of course, but you just didn’t know how to do it from the start. You tried that tactic before with previous boyfriends and they’d all freaked out and run off. Arthur was special though, and you didn’t want him to do the same. Your eyes tear up. This is it. 

He grabs your hand and gently squeezes it. “You know you can tell me anything, right darlin’?”

“I… I know. But… Arthur, you’re going to hate me for it.” 

“Why would I do that?” 

“Because everyone does. Everyone acts like it’s my fault, that I chose to be this way. I didn’t! All I chose to do was to right a wrong.” 

He waits for you to answer as the tears slide down your cheek, but when you don’t, he goes on. “Darlin’, I don’t understand what you’re sayin’. Please tell me. Maybe I can help you.” 

“Or you can run away,” you say dejectedly. Before he has the chance to respond, you decide to just tell him quick, like ripping off a bandaid. “Arthur, I’m…. I’m transgender. I… was born a… born with male parts, but I never felt like a male. So I made the decision to have things done and to be put on medicines that would make me female.” 

You wait for him to start screaming, to call you horrible names, to be sick. Anything like the past men you’ve dated have done. His eyes are wide and his mouth is partially open. His hand is stiff around yours. You wait for him to say something. Instead he stands up, grabs his things, and heads out the door. After he closes it, you lose all your control and sob. 

A few hours go by and you’ve heard nothing. You decided not to text him, figuring he’s either blocked your number or you’re the last person he’d want to speak to. It still hurts though to know he won’t be coming back. 

That night, you go to bed and cry yourself to sleep. Why did you have to be cursed with a body that didn’t match who you are? Why do other people have the luck of having the right things to match themselves? 

************************************

In the morning, you feel eyes on you as you start waking up. It’s not a comfortable feeling so you bolt up in bed to find Arthur sitting next to your bed. He smiles when you see him. 

“A-Arthur?” you say in a pained voice. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says and his hand slides onto the bed, looking for yours. 

“What are you doing here? I thought… I thought after what I told you I’d never see you again.”

“Nah, I couldn’t do that to you. I’m sorry for leaving like that. It was wrong of me. But it was a bomb I wasn’t expecting to be honest, and I know it don’t make things right.” 

You blink away the tears, feeling yourself closing up. You can’t afford to let yourself get hurt again. 

“Darlin’, when I left yesterday, I went and looked up the steps I imagine you had to take, and not just the physical ones like surgeries and hormones and stuff. I went onto a lot of websites where transgenders and allies can talk and ask each other questions. I realized this must have been a long journey for you, that it probably started a long time ago when you figured out you didn’t feel what your body said you were.” 

You smile a little and openly let yourself cry. “Yes, Arthur. I figured out a long time ago that I never felt like a boy, but I was in denial for a long time.” 

“Well, come on. I’ll make ya some coffee. Why don’t you tell me your story? I wanna hear it.” 

“You’re not mad? I… I lied to you, Arthur, and there’s a lot of people who will say that I’m… still a man because that’s what my chromosomes say or because I can’t have babies like a woman.” 

“Yeah well those assholes can go fuck themselves,” Arthur growls. “It ain’t their job or their privilege to say what you are. Only you can decide that. ‘Sides, I ain’t mad. How long you and I been together now?” 

“A… a little over a year.” 

“Yes, and I haven’t had to worry once about whether or not you was gonna be faithful. Y’know, a few of my past girlfriends were datin’ other men within months of me datin’ them. Face it, darlin’, you’re the best girl I’ve ever had. I don’t wanna lose you. And it ain’t like it’s your fault about you bein’ trans. Can I tell you a secret?” 

You nod and he helps you stand up, smiling at you. “I think you’re incredibly brave. I can’t imagine the fear you held and still have, and how you chose to defy the people who say you couldn’t do this and instead said ‘I can and I will’. But you don’t have to be alone anymore. I’ll always be here by your side. I love you too much to do anythin’ else.” 

The kiss you share after this, albeit a wet one due to your tears, is one that the both of you will remember for years to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated (especially on this one!)


	88. Drunk Arthur Flirts with Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hey, can I get something with drunk Arthur trying to flirt with his wife (reader)? And he gets really sad when she says she's taken?

Party! That’s exactly what this camp needs right now. The past few weeks have been nothing short of hell. First the Blackwater heist fails and then being chased by Pinkertons and lawmen up to Colter where you and everyone else nearly froze to death. Losing Davey and Jenny along the way and still suspecting that Mac may have followed his brother out. Poor Sean, everyone thought he wouldn’t make it either. It was a good thing Trelawney was keeping an eye on things down in Blackwater. 

Uncle and Bill heave out the multiple boxes of beer and whiskey while Sean stands on the log used for chopping firewood and makes a speech about how everything will be better now that “Dead Eye MacGuire” is back. You giggle when he calls Arthur a grumpy old bastard and you put your hand on Arthur’s arm, knowing how sensitive he can be about things like this. 

Everyone’s happy for the excuse to drink and let loose, so everyone soon has a drink in hand. Karen, Javier and Uncle sit around the table, singing. Karen seems determined to get drunk before anyone else can, but Bill and Sean seem to be taking the challenge personally. You’re happy to begin drinking too, but then you see Arthur, downing possibly his second bottle of whiskey. 

“Take it easy, cowboy,” you say, patting his back. “You know how you are when you’re drunk.” 

“Hey, we’re supposed to be enjoyin’ ourselves, ain’t we?” he said. 

“Okay. But when you get a wicked hangover tomorrow, don’t tell me to stop you next time you try and get drunk.” You walk off and join Uncle, who has moved over to the fire. He, Bill, Javier and John begin singing “the ring dang doo”. You giggle, taking a swig of your own drink and join in. 

“Hey wait a second, sweetheart,” Arthur slurs, plopping down next to you on the log. He then joins in on the song. 

After the song, Dutch calls for something more civilized and turns on his gramophone, playing a classical piece. Since your butt has gone to sleep on the log, you stand up, grabbing Arthur’s hand, and ask him to dance with you. It’s obvious he’s already going a little deep on the drink, but he’s still sober enough to do so. He holds you tight against him, humming in your ear. You love it as he’s not often open about being physically affectionate with you in the camp. 

As the night progresses, Arthur gets steadily more and more drunk. You’re not doing too good yourself, but you know when to call it quits, so you do. You’re sat on the log again, trying to focus your eyes on the fire in front of you, but feeling a little weird. You haven’t seen Arthur in a while, not since before Karen took Sean into John’s tent. 

Someone sits down beside you. “Well ain’t you a pretty thing?” Arthur huffs in a rough and slurred voice. 

You giggle and look at him. “You always was sweet.” 

“How-” he lets out a soft burb, “how you know what I’m like? We ain’t… never met, have we?” 

Looking into Arthur’s bloodshot eyes, it hits you that he is beyond plastered. Oh boy. But since you’re pretty drunk yourself, you decide to play along with it. 

“Guess we ain’t. But you sure are handsome, mister.” 

“Ah, I’m an ugly ol’ bastard, ask… ask anyone who’s met me.” 

“I’ve met you and I don’t think so.” 

He smiles at you, his eyes crossing a bit. “And you’d be the first. Tell me, wha’s a cute thing like you doin’ out here alone? Y-you got a feller?” 

“Sure,” you say, taking a swig of whiskey, forgetting you’re trying to sober up. 

He looks at you as hard as he can through his bleary eyes. “Y-you do? Is it just for fun or…” 

“Nah, I’m married to him. He’s the best man I ever met.” 

Arthur huffs and looks at his feet. “I’ll bet he is. After all, I bet you’re the sweetest lady ‘tween California and Chicago.” 

You giggle again. “Mister, you’re makin’ me blush! Trust me, I ain’t that sweet.” 

He looks at you disbelievingly. He smiles a bit. “So tell me about this feller of yours?” 

“Oh he’s big, strong, handsome. Best rider and shooter I ever seen. Y’know, he taught me how to shoot a gun and ride a horse? Best teacher, too. I fell head over heels for him.” 

Arthur grumbles a bit. “Yeah, I’ll bet you did.” 

You don’t hear him and you go on. “He’s got these pretty blue eyes. I could stare into them for ages. They’re so pretty. And when he holds me…” you smile, thinking about how wonderful his arms feel wrapped around you. “Pure Heaven.” 

“That so? Bet I could do better!” His squinting eyes are on you again.

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you prove it then, mister?” 

Arthur’s eyes widen a bit, as he’s clearly taken aback. “Y-you serious? Your feller around?” 

“Oh yeah, he’s around, I doubt he’s sober enough to know what I’m doing though. Don’t worry, he won’t be mad.” 

“You was my girl, I’d be mad. Seein’ some big brute huggin’ my wife.” 

“Nah, like I said, he’s off dead drunk somewhere around here. Trust me, even if he sees us he probably won’t remember nothin’.” 

Arthur smiles a bit. “Well, okay. If he comes rushin’ over though, I ain’t makin’ no promises.” 

You return the smile. He holds out his arms and leans over to you, enveloping you. Immediately you bury your head into his chest as his chin settles on your head. Man, he is warm! He’s always warm, but the alcohol has made him damn near hot. You sniff hard, taking in the intoxicating scent of his skin. You’ve always liked the way he smells naturally. 

After a moment or two, he leans back so he can stare down at you. “There. How’s that compare?” 

“Mm, pure heaven,” you say, smirking. Then you stretch up and press your lips to his. He doesn’t bolt back, and his lips move against yours. He sighs, his hand moving up to your shoulder. 

When you remove your lips from his, he smiles. “That was good, miss. But I don’t think your man will be happy.” 

“Oh don’t worry, Mr. Morgan. He won’t remember a thing.” 

“In that case, would ya mind goin’ in for another?” 

You respond by kissing him again. 

***********************************************

In the morning, Arthur groans. He’s lying on his back in your shared cot. The only thing hiding his naked body from view is the blanket you both sleep under. He runs his hand over his face. 

“You waking up finally?” you say, knowing exactly how he feels. Damn, you drank way too much last night.

“If this is what you call awake,” he grumbles. His bleary eyes open to see you dressing yourself, though you’re not at all happy about it. 

“What… what happened last night?” he asks after he realizes he’s naked. 

You smile. “Oh Arthur, you were downright sweet last night. I didn’t know you was a romantic drunk.” 

He lets out a pleading groan, flopping back onto the bed. “I didn’t do nothin’ stupid, did I?” 

“Well, by your standards, no. Like I said, you were cute.” 

You let out a small giggle, then you lean down and place a kiss on his forehead before heading out to begin your chores. Smiling to yourself as you leave, you remember how Arthur was. If you know he’ll always be that cute and sweet, maybe you’ll have to let him get drunk more often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love talking to my readers! Tell me what you think. I wanna hear the good, the bad and the ugly!


	89. It feels like the first time - Mordern AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Was wondering if u could do some modern Arthur and reader’s first time together thank u queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: pure smut y'all.

You’ve been on the couch, laying against Arthur for some time now. You’re not really watching the movie playing as you’ve been occupied with him. Not long after the movie started, Arthur kissed you. It was soft and gentle, but you went in for more and now the two of you are in a full makeout session. 

He sighs heavily as you press your body against him, your lips and tongue exploring the other’s. To say you’re getting turned on is an understatement, you can feel that familiar heat growing between your legs. When you shift your leg to straddle him a bit, you feel something long and hard pressing between your bodies. Your cheeks burn when you realize what it is. 

Feeling flattered that you’re turning him on this much, your hand hesitates on his chest and then you slide it down, rubbing his cock in his pants. 

“Shit,” he says, pulling away. “Sorry, darlin’.” 

You grin and kiss his neck. “You don’t need to be embarrassed, Arthur. I find it… sexy.” 

He looks at you as though a bit surprised and you bite his lip before leaning in to whisper in his ear. “How about we move this into my room?” 

He doesn’t hesitate before he stands up, carrying you into your room. The moment he sets you down, you shove him hard and he falls onto the bed on his back. Before he has the chance to react, you jump onto him and rip his shirt open, running your hands over his naked chest. Fuck, he looks even better than you’ve imagined in the past. He groans as you tangle your hands in his chest hair. 

Your hands glide down his delicious body and to his jeans and you quickly undo his belt and zipper, anxious to see him. His cock springs out, his head purple with a thick vein running down it to the base. He’s thick and just the right length for you. 

Arthur begins panting as soon as you release him, so you run a hand down his cock. He responds with a definitive thrust. 

“Oh God, darlin’,” he moans softly as you stroke him again and again. His face is turning red. He’s already close. 

You’re just thinking about whether or not to drive him crazy by licking him, but he suddenly flips you over onto your back and holds himself over you. Despite him still being rock hard, he kisses you gently, sliding his hands under your shirt. He pulls your bra away from your body and starts playing with your nipples. After only a few seconds of this, he pauses long enough to take your shirt off and unclasp your bra. He gazes for a few seconds at your breasts as you breathe heavily. He then dives down and starts sucking on your nipple. God, the sounds of him alone are enough to make you soak your pants. 

His hand glides down from your breast and to your pants where he unbuttons them and then slides a finger through your soaked slit. 

“Damn, girl,” he says around your nipple. 

“Arthur…. Oh Arthur,” is all you can manage to say as he rubs his fingers between your folds. 

He chuckles and then slips your nub from his mouth. Quickly he strips your pants off and then grabs your knees, spreading them apart. His tongue wets his lips as he stares at what you have to offer him. 

“You ready, sweetheart?” he asks softly, stroking himself to bring his length back up to its full potential. 

You don’t answer, instead you fold your arms behind his neck and reach up to kiss him. He lowers his body down, one hand guiding his cock into your soaked and red-hot pussy. You wince a little as he spreads your walls. It’s been a long time since you’ve done this. He moves slowly, as though aware and not wanting to hurt you. He slides himself in until he can’t go any further. The two of you sit like this for a second and then Arthur pulls himself out a bit only to slam right back into you. 

His lips glide to your neck as he starts thrusting into you. God, he feels so good. His hard length curves in just the right way that he’s already brushing your spot. His head roots around, exploring your opening. 

“Oh, Arthur. Harder.” 

You feel him smile into the base of your neck as he pumps himself hard and fast. His balls slap against you a bit, and you spread your knees further to let him go even deeper. 

Without warning, Arthur leans up a bit, his hand slipping down between your bodies. He finds your fold and then two fingers slip around the base of his cock, rubbing the edge of your opening. You bite your lip hard, moaning a bit from the pleasure of this sensation. 

“That feel good, baby?” he asks. 

You just moan again in response. 

“I want ya to cum to me, darlin’.” 

“You… you gotta work… for it, big boy,” you pant between his thrusts. 

He chuckles and then his fingers leave your opening to stroke your clit. You gasp as he brushes it hard and fast. You’ve never slept with a guy who first of all knew where your clit is and secondly cared enough about you gaining pleasure to bother rubbing it. 

“Oh God, Arthur… you’re… you’re on the… right track. Oh yeah… just like that… Fuck…” 

He groans as his cock continues pushing in and out of you, but his fingers keep on brushing your clit. He’s close, but he wants you to come first. However, your orgasm seems to be stubborn and hasn’t quite risen yet, so he forces himself to slow down on his pumping, focusing his head on your spot and then he rubs your clit hard and fast. 

Friction builds up, making your slit even hotter than before, and you feel it: that familiar bubble, signalling that you’re about to come. 

“Arthur… Arthur… Arthur!” you say, louder with each utterance. You’ve never orgasmed to a man before since none of them took the time nor care to get you there themself. You’ve only been able to do it using tools you operated yourself. But this with Arthur, this is something special. He rubs even harder on your clit. 

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna… Arthur, I’m…!” But before you can finish saying what you’re gonna do, your back suddenly arches, your hands clench on the bed spread and your heels dig into his thighs as your orgasm rips through you. 

Arthur doesn’t seem satisfied with this though and he starts thrusting hard into you again and his thumb rubs your clit again and again. He’s trying to prolong your release, and it’s working. 

“Arthur! Arthur, please!” you beg as your body cannot handle anymore stimulation. Tears begin pooling in your eyes. One more stroke on your clit and your legs suddenly shoot out as you hit your peak. A long, pained groan escapes your throat and Arthur finally lets you go. 

He chuckles and says, “Good girl. You did very good.” 

He groans suddenly as your walls clench around his cock as your orgasm ebbs away. He loves the way it feels too and it only takes a few seconds you pulsing around him. 

“Shit!” he says and quickly pulls out. Just in time too because his head suddenly releases his hot seed onto your stomach. He swears again as he finishes. You watch his cock, dripping with your combined juices, grow soft. 

You’re unable to move as your body seems to be made out of jelly. Arthur pats your thigh gently, sighing in the wake of your pleasure, and then he reaches down for your shirt, cleans up the mess on your stomach and then throws it into your laundry bin. When he’s done, he lays down, resting his head on your shoulder as you’re still unable to move.

“That was incredible,” you say, feeling exhausted. He lets out a satisfied sigh and kisses your neck, but then his hand comes up and rests on your breast. He likes playing with your nipples, it seems, but you know if he keeps going like this, you’ll need him to fuck you again. However, you let him continue, liking how his calloused fingers feel on your skin. 

After only a few minutes of him toying around with you though, you’ve had enough. Your hand slips down your body and you begin stroking yourself. He watches you for a moment, but then he kisses your neck and grabs your hand, stopping you. 

“Let me, darlin’.” 

As he positions himself between your legs again, you know you’re in for a long night.


	90. Asexual Arthur - modern AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Could you write a piece on Arthur admitting to reader he's ace (or demi sexual or w/e Ace variation you fancy)

Arthur's nervous. His hands can't stop fiddling as he sits on your bed, somewhere dreading the moment you come out of the bathroom. He feels guilty, like he may have led you on to believe that he wanted to sleep with you tonight. He doesn't. 

It's not that he doesn't love you or think you're beautiful. He hasn't slept with many women before. Only 1 in fact, but it's not because he can't get any. It's because… He hangs his head in shame. Part of him has always felt like he was broken because he doesn't feel what others feel, particularly other men. 

He hadn't tried to lead you on, it truly was just foolish acting on his part. He's been trying to hide his sexuality from you in the beginning. He remembers how Mary reacted when he'd told her. She never treated him very well, but she'd been even worse after that, saying he wasn't much of a man at all because he just felt no desire to sleep with her. 

But you. You're so much better than Mary. Never once have you belittled him or made him feel more guilty about his past or about who he is as a person. He knew Mary for years and there were parts of him he never showed her. He's known you for only a few months and he feels like he can tell you anything. So why can't he be open about this? You deserve to know, after all.

The bathroom door opens and you step out in a simple but short nightgown. You didn't want to get in over your head with some incredibly sexy but incredibly uncomfortable lingerie. A smile spreads across your face as you look at him shyly. His smile seems odd, almost forced and it's like he forces his eyes to roam over your body.

"Hey handsome," you say and tiptoe into the bedroom, sitting next to him on the bed. He's sitting very stiff and he rolls his neck, showing how uncomfortable he is. What is wrong with him? Has he never slept with a woman before? You wonder if maybe he just needs someone to guide him, so you lean in and start kissing his neck, your hands clutching his shoulders.

Arthur really wishes you wouldn't do this. It feels wrong, completely wrong, and he hates himself for it. Why can't he make himself want to sleep with you? You're gorgeous and here you are throwing yourself at him. He decides to resolve himself to just getting it over with.

But then your hand glides down his body and you squeeze the soft bulge in his pants and he almost yelps, moving away.

"Arthur, what's wrong? Did I hurt you?" 

"No, no you didn't," he says, though he can't look at you, his cheeks pink. "I'm… I'm sorry, y/n, but I can't do this. I… I want to make you feel happy but I just can't…" 

He waits for you to get angry, to accuse him of leading you on and playing games. Instead, you straighten up, clasp your hands on your lap and look at him with a worried face. 

"Did I do something?" you say in a quiet voice.

"No. No no no, God no, darlin' you did nothing wrong," he says, feeling even worse. "I know it sounds cliche but believe me when I say that it's me. I… I don't know how to explain it." He puts his head in his hands and feels like disappearing. He waits again for you to be mad.

"Can you try to explain it?" you say softly. "Arthur, I'm… I want to know what you think." 

He looks at you sadly, and you can see in his eyes how much he wants to open up. Suddenly you get a nagging suspicion that he might be gay and is hiding it. It's happened to you before, which would explain his lack of excitement. You sigh, feeling hurt but not wanting him to feel worse. 

"Let me go put something on," you say and stand up, happy for the excuse to pull yourself back together. You love Arthur, more than you've loved any other man you've been with, and you want so badly to make love to him. But if he's gay, you certainly won't ask him to do it with you. Perhaps you need to help him come to terms with his own sexuality. 

After putting on your bathrobe over your nightgown, you sit down on the bed again, but you give him a few inches of space.

"Arthur, can we talk? I'm not mad, I promise, but I want to know what's going on inside your head." 

He sighs and nods. "Yes, I think you deserve that much, darlin'." 

He doesn't quite know what to say so he goes silent again, staring at his feet. You wait for him to speak, but he doesn't, so you decide to take the lead. 

"Arthur, do… do you feel that you are physically more attracted to men?" 

His head shoots up and he almost glares at you. "No, y/n, I ain't attracted to men. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with a man bein’ attracted to other men, but that ain’t me. I… I…” 

He puts his head in his hands. He knows what he is, he’s known for a while now, but he doubts you will understand. After all, why would you? Mary didn’t, so why would you? 

“What is it?” you ask softly. You hesitatingly slide your hand onto his thigh and take his hand, squeezing it a bit. You want him to feel like he can tell you anything on his mind. Your gesture comforts him. 

He sighs heavily and still won’t look at you. “Darlin’, you ever heard of an asexual?” 

“Um… I’ve heard of them in my botany class,” you say, “but I don’t think that’s what you’re talking about.” 

“No, it ain’t what I’m talkin’ about. I learned the term a few years ago when I was tryin’ to figure out why I can’t seem to experience the same thing as other people. I came across the term asexual and demi-sexual. Guess they’re on the same spectrum. I.... I think I’m on there.” 

He explains how he’s never felt sexual attraction towards anyone, how he’s only slept with one woman before (Eliza), but how she was sort of a rebound of Mary, the only woman he thought he loved. “I just didn’t want Eliza to hate me the way Mary did, so I slept with her. I had to force myself to do it though. Think she knew too, or maybe I was just awful in the sheets. She never asked me to do it again.” 

You squeeze his hand again. “So you just feel aren’t able to feel sexual arousal,” you say simply. 

“Guess… guess you can put it that way. I’m sorry, darlin’. I always knew I was messed up.” 

“Arthur, no. No no no, no you’re not messed up, please don’t say that. I may not understand what you mean by this, but… maybe we can explore it together. You know, sex isn’t the only part of a relationship. And I want you in my life even if that means I sacrifice the sex. I don’t wanna lose you, I love you too much.” 

“What?” he says quickly. 

You blink rapidly, your eyes watery. “I… I said I love you.” 

He smiles and squeezes your hand, then he pulls you in for a hug. “I love you too, sweetheart. But are you really willing to help me with this?” 

“Yes, Arthur. You deserve to know you’re not broken. I bet there’s hundreds of people who feel the same way as you.” 

Arthur can’t begin to describe the gratitude he feels towards you in this moment. He does know though that, whatever the future has in store, he’s going to spend a long time with you, possibly even his whole life. No one has ever been willing to help him learn about himself, they’ve always expected him to have his life together at this point. You, though, are different, and he loves that about you. 

Over the next few weeks, you and Arthur research his sexuality and not only does he come to terms with it, he begins to show pride in it. Pride that he’s not broken, that there’s nothing wrong with him. With his newly gained confidence, there comes a night when he initiates sex. This takes you by surprise and when you asked him if he was comfortable, he just grinned. 

“I may be asexual, but I think I may also be you-sexual,” he said before diving down between your legs to feast on you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love this piece since I am asexual myself (and I'm sure all you who've read my smut pieces are saying 'yeah right'). Anyways, I'd love to hear your thoughts!


	91. Arthur while drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hiii! Please could you write some fluff where arthur has been day drinking when reader comes back into camp? Bonus points for arthur realising he's not being subtle far too late ❤❤❤

It’s been a long day. A long and difficult day. You haven’t been back to camp in over a day as you’d left to go hunting near Strawberry. While you were in town, you noticed a window showing the basement of the general store. After looking inside it, you noticed a large still. This seemed odd as Strawberry is a dry town. You realized it must be an underground business and a possibly lucrative take. 

After robbing the store owner and coming out about $100 richer, you went to the hotel to bathe since you knew you weren’t in any trouble from the cops. The store owner knew he couldn’t rat you out, that would mean exposing his blackmarket business. However, the moment you stepped out of the hotel, still damp from the bath, you were instantly met by two cops demanding you surrender. The store owner must have lied and said you robbed his store and not his liquor business. You ended up getting chased out of town and then you had to hide in Big Valley for the sheriff and his deputy to give up their hunt for you, which took several hours. 

You sigh upon seeing camp, relieved to get back. Your butt is sore from all the riding, your shoulder is tender from when you tripped on your way to butcher a buck you’d shot. Your arms are a bit sunburned and you’re glad to be back to camp. You’ve needed this rest. 

After dismounting your horse, you hitch her and make your way over to Dutch’s box to give half the take from the store robbery. You take in a deep breath. The pines here in Horseshoe Overlook smell glorious. 

As you’re putting the money into the box, hands suddenly slide around you and clasp on your stomach. Someone puts their chin on your shoulder and you’re hit in the face by the strong smell of spirits. 

“There’s my girl,” Arthur growls in a slurred drawl. 

You giggle and look over your shoulder at him. “Howdy, cowboy.” 

“Mm, missed you.” 

“Obviously. You been day-drinkin’ again. You ain’t done that since, well before Blackwater.” 

He smiles and kisses your neck. “I day drink more than ya think, darlin’.” 

He clutches you tighter, bringing you closer to him and you can feel him pressing into your back. 

“Excited to see me?” you say with a small laugh. 

He hums again and kisses you once more, but you pat his hand. 

“Not now, Arthur. I’m not really in the mood.” 

He seems to sober up just a little. “Wha’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, just had a hard time out there.” 

“Well, let me make ya feel better.” He grips your hand and stumbles a but towards your shared tent. You can see what he’s planning, so you stop and try taking your hand away from his. 

“Arthur, I really am not in the mood for sex right now,” you say quietly enough that no one else can hear. 

“I ain’t tryin’ to do that, darlin’. ‘Sides, I’d pro’ly miss anyways.” 

Despite yourself, you laugh and let him continue taking you to the tent. Once in it, he closes the tent flaps and slurs that it’s just so you two can have a little while to enjoy one another’s company, but he has no sexual intentions behind it. You believe him, too, since he’s never tried to convince you to have sex when you’ve said no. 

After he closes the tent up, he walks up behind you, slides your satchel off and then grips your shoulders, rubbing the knots out. You let out a deep groan and tilt your head back. 

“Mm, Arthur. Didn’t know you were so sweet when drunk like this.” 

“Ain’t ever drunk enough to not care for my girl.” He rubs your shoulder and you flinch. “Wha’s wrong?”

You hiss a bit and explain about your clumsy incident. He rubs your shoulder a bit more gently, trying to work out the tenderness and it does help. Afterwards, he leaves your side, making you feel a bit cooler. You turn around to see what he’s doing and find him lying on his back in the cot. 

“What are you doing?” you say. 

He holds out his arm and gestures for you. Knowing what he wants, you climb into the cot and plop down on his chest, draping your arm across his body. His own arm settles around you, resting on your shoulder. He kisses your head as his free hand settles over yours on his stomach. 

“You always this sweet, Mr. Morgan?” you say, feeling suddenly sleepy. 

“Only with you, sweetheart.” 

With the darkness of your tent and Arthur’s heat seeping into your body, your eyes begin drooping. You hear a soft snore escape his own lips. He must be drunk enough to have fallen asleep this quickly. You place a slightly sloppy kiss on the small patch of his chest that’s revealed beneath his blue shirt and then you lay down on him again, giving yourself up to your own drowsiness. 

*********************************

A few hours later, you’re standing by the fire, drinking some coffee despite the sun setting. Arthur’s still in your tent and last you saw him, he was fast asleep. As you drain the remainder of your drink, you hear someone walk up to you and stop. You look over and smile when you see it’s Arthur.

“How you feeling, honey?” you ask him. 

He groans and rubs his hand over his face. “Don’t remember much. When’d you get back?” 

“A few hours ago. You really don’t remember when I came back?” 

“Not really. Remember Uncle and Sean started gettin’ into a drinkin’ game. Invited me to play. I wanted to go lookin’ for you but they sort of made me sit down to relax, sayin’ you was fine.” 

“Well I was. But…” you pout a little. Does he really not remember when you came back? He’d been so incredibly sweet and affectionate. He’s never that touchy with you when he’s in camp and you like it. A lot actually. 

“What is it?” he grumbles. 

“Well… I don’t know… Guess it’s nothing.” 

You start walking away when he stops you. “No, darlin’, tell me. I can see you’re bothered by somethin’. Did… Did I say somethin’ bad to you?” 

“No. Just the opposite actually,” you say, letting him hold your hand. After taking a deep breath, you tell him what he did. 

“Oh. So, why are you upset about it, darlin’?” he asks. 

You look up at him incredulously. Is he really this oblivious as to your feelings about it? “Arthur, you’re never like that in camp sober. You never hold me when the others can see. Aren’t… are you ashamed of being seen with me?” 

He blinks and he seems a bit taken aback. “God, darlin’, no. If I ever seemed like I didn't want to be seen with ya, it’s ‘cause I was thinkin’ of you. I just… I figured you wouldn’t want people to know that-”

“To know what?” you interrupt. “To know that I’m with the most wonderful man I have ever met? For them to know that I am head over heels in love with that same man? Arthur, I want people to know! I want them to see how… amazed I am that someone like you would be with someone like me.” 

His mouth has been slightly open, but he closes it and smiles. “Well then, if that’s the case.” He pulls you into a hug, not caring that anyone else can see the two of you. As if on queue, Sean saunters past. 

“Oh, big grumpy Morgan! I always knew ya had a soft spot for tha’ girl!” 

“Shut up, Sean. You just jealous you ain’t got one of your own.” 

Sean chuckles and keeps walking. You look up at Arthur with a big smile. He smiles back and then, despite the fact that Uncle, Grimshaw and Karen are sitting at the round table, Javier, Bill and Hosea are sitting around the fire and all of them can see the two of you, Arthur bends down and kisses you. It’s the first time he’s done it with an audience, but you feel yourself melting. 

“About time too, I was gettin’ sick of them lookin’ all dew-eyed at each other all the time,” you hear Bill growl to Hosea, but you don’t care. This moment couldn’t be more perfect.


	92. The rat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: hi, i never asked for a fic before but could you do one about female reader getting kidnapped by micah and she gets tourtured, arthur and the gang go save her. idk it sounds silly im not good at giving fic ideas lol

You stand at Pearson’s wagon, preparing tonight’s stew yet again. The cook is too drunk to do it himself yet again, poor man. Not that you blame him. You spend half the time here in Beaver Hollow wishing you were too drunk to be coherent. You’ve never been in a more foul place and the entire gang seems to sense it. What used to be a strong-knit family only a few weeks ago is now more feral than a pack of starving wolves, eager to rip each other’s throats out.

As you cut up some venison, you look up and see Micah walking through camp, taunting Karen, Mary-Beth and Uncle as he passes them. Out of everyone here, Micah seems to be the one settling in the best, and he’s the only one who seems happy about the predicament of the gang. His behavior has begun to make you suspicious.

Just as he reaches the horses and mounts up on his black and white steed, Arthur and John pull in. They must have finished with the Bacchus bridge then. You hear Arthur ask Micah what he’s doing, but Micah waves him off.

“Nothing you need to worry about, cowpoke. Just going to go scouting to see what might be the next best move now that you two finally got a move on that bridge.”

Micah twitches his reins and begins walking down the path, whistling as he goes. You don’t like his answer, too vague. Tilly walks past, so you ask her to finish supper so you can go and talk to Arthur since you haven’t seen him in a few days. She agrees, though grudgingly. You know the only reason she did so was because Arthur is your husband.

You walk up to him and quickly say you’re off to do a ride and do some hunting of your own.

“What? No hello?” he says seriously.

“I’m sorry, Arthur, it’s just this place. It sets my teeth on edge.” You lean in and whisper, “I want to know what Micah is up to. Don’t tell anyone.”

He nods understandingly and quickly gives you a kiss. “Okay, sweetheart, but be safe out there. Murphrees are still about. And always keep both eyes on Micah.”

He continues walking into the gang with John and you mount your horse and quickly trot down the trail, trying to make up for lost time. Once you get to the end of the trail, you have to take a minute to figure out which direction Micah went. It rained a few hours ago, so the mud is still drying, allowing you to see which tracks are the freshest. You identify the tracks leaving the trail you’re on, seeing their headed east towards Annesburg.

After cantering down a ways, you find Micah up ahead on the trail, going at a leisurely trot. You slow your horse down and stay a good ways back from him so he won’t hear you. You hope you’re just being paranoid and that he really is just on a reconnaissance journey, but something in your gut tells you otherwise.

Nearly half an hour passes and Micah finally turns off the main trail and goes up into the trees. Up ahead, you see a small house peaking through the trunks. You leave your horse near the main trail and run through the foliage, always keeping Micah in sight. As the house gets closer, you can see it looks like it’s been empty for years. Half the roof is caved in and most of the windows are smashed. What is Micah doing here?

Your answer comes as soon as you ask it. The door to the cabin opens and you take shelter behind a large oak. As you peak through a willow bush to see Micah dismounting, a man steps out from the house. You recognize him immediately: Agent Milton, the Pinkerton. What the fuck is Micah doing with this piece of shit?

“Ah, Mr. Bell, we were growing worried,” Milton says as Micah walks up to the porch. You don’t like this, not at all. Micah hasn’t even drawn his gun yet.

“No need to worry about me, Pinkerton. I been busy.”

“Yes I realize that. Stealing the dynamite as it was passing through Van Horn and I just received word that the Bacchus Bridge has been destroyed. I can’t imagine you had anything to do with that.”

Micah gives him a nasty smile. “That was one of Dutch’s fine ideas. He figures, we blow up the only railroad that connects to Fort Wallace and soon the army will be making their way up to fix it, bringing tons of money as payroll with them.”

“That’s what he thinks, does he?” Milton says in an almost bored fashion.

“That’s exactly what he thinks. I helped him reach that conclusion myself. He figures by making enough noise, you folks won’t think it was us. He’s using the Indians up here to take his blame.”

“Well, I don’t know about the wisdom behind these actions, Mr. Bell, but rest assured it will be delt with. Now, I have another plan for you. We want Van der Linde captured quickly with as little casualties as possible, so I have something-”

Suddenly you’re grabbed from behind and your arms are wrenched behind you in a full nelson grip. You try to fight the person off without alerting Milton and Micah to your presence, but the person is too strong for you and he shuffles you out from behind the tree and into full view.

“Mr. Milton! Think you have an uninvited guest to your meeting.”

Milton and Micah look at you. Micah bares his teeth and glares while Milton looks mildly surprised.

“A friend of yours, Mr. Bell? Forgive my saying, but she looks like one of your lot.”

“That’s Morgan’s whore of a wife. What you doin’ here, Y/N?”

Rage pounds through your body and you’d like nothing more than to go and beat Micah to a pulp, but the agent behind you still holds you too tight.

“I had a feeling you were up to no good, Micah. Now here’s my proof.”

“You ain’t got no proof, little girl.”

“Oh yeah? Who’s Dutch gonna believe? Me, married to his right hand man and been with the gang ten years, or the rat he’s known six months?”

To your surprise, Micah begins laughing. “Come on, Y/N, he’s already filled Hosea’s spot with me. Think I can convince him easily enough.”

“And when I tell Dutch you helped get Hosea and Lenny killed? What then, Micah?! You never liked Hosea, I bet you were looking for a way to get him out of your way for a long time! Dutch might be a fool, but he ain’t stupid.”

Micah laughs again but then Milton calls his attention. “Mrs. Morgan has us in a difficult position, Mr. Bell. You were instructed to never be followed to our secret meetings. She needs to be delt with.”

Milton pulls out his gun and aims it at you, but Micah stops him. You think he’s doing it out of mercy until he speaks. “You kill Morgan’s girl, Milton, we’re gonna have a bigger problem on our hands. Morgan might be dumb, but he’s a good fighter. One of the best I ever known. If he finds out his girl’s been shot, he’ll slaughter everyone he comes across.”

Your memory flicks back to one time when an O’Driscoll had shot you in the leg during an ambush. Micah had been there too, so had Bill. Arthur was downright terrifying though when you’d been shot. There’d been two to one with the O’Driscolls having the upper hand, but Arthur killed them all and it had been so quick, Bill and Micah barely had time to help.

“Then what do you recommend we do with her then, Mr. Bell?” Milton says. “We cannot let her return to your little gang.”

Micah ponders for a moment, then he looks around. “We can’t kill her, but we can’t let her go either. But Morgan will come looking for her the moment he suspects she’s in trouble. This is Murphree country, ain’t it? I suggest you let me take care of her, I’ll make it seem like they got hold of her. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she can’t talk.”

Micah walks down the steps and towards you. Panic courses through you and you try to fight your captor off again, but with no more luck than your previous attempts. When Micah’s close, he pulls out his pistol and hits you hard in the head, knocking you unconscious.

*****************************************

Some time later, you begin to stir awake. Your head pounds from where Micah hit you, but you somehow manage to push the pain aside in order to assess your situation. When your vision grows accustomed to the darkness, you see you’re in a cave. Not the one at Beaver Hollow. It’s a rather short cave, in fact you can easily see the opening. A river gurgles happily just outside and across the way are thick trees. In front of you sits the shredded form of what must have been a small shelter, though it looks like it’s been here years. Around the cool cave, bones of animals are scattered around and you smell the fresh stink of wild dogs.

You try to move but find you’re incapable of doing so. You’re forced down on your knees, your arms tied behind your head to a post so that your elbows are even with the top of your head. It’s hard to say how long you’ve been here, though the sunlight outside suggests a couple of hours. Your arms hurt from being tied up, but you can’t work the binds loose.

You grunt as you try to escape from your bonds and out of the shelter walks Micah, who slides his big knife back into its sheath.

“Bout time you woke up,” he says with a slight snarl.

“You piece of shit, Micah. You sold us out.”

“I told you a long time ago, Y/N, I’m a survivor. Anyone who’s spent an inkling of time with Dutch can see he’s circling the drain. Now I hate the Pinkertons as much as the rest of you, but I ain’t so stupid as to go down with the ship.”

“You coulda just left!” you roar. “Dutch ain’t runnin’ a prison camp!”

“And be left with nothing but the fond memories I hold?” Micah sneers. “Nah, that ain’t good enough. I want money just as much as Dutch does, but there’s no way to get it with him no more. Hosea’s death broke him, I just managed to get into his head enough and then once the Pinkertons have what they want, I get what I want.”

“You fucking rat, Micah. We shoulda shot you months ago!”

Micah responds by punching you hard in the face and you feel your lip split. It doesn’t stop you from glaring up at him.

“Why couldn’t you have just minded your own business, hmm? It didn’t have to come down to this, you know. You coulda just stayed there, cuddled with Morgan like a good girl and lay in his bed while I take care of what needs to be done. But you just had to interfere. It’s a shame really.” Micah’s begun to pace around you and he kneels behind you so he can whisper in your ear. “Y’know, I always kinda liked you. Ya got fire in you that I have to admire. Mm, the things I wouldn’t have minded doing with you, but Morgan has you tied around his finger.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Micah. Even if I weren’t married, I’d slit your throat long before I let you put a finger on me.”

He chuckles and stands up, walking up in front of you again. “See? That’s what I like about you. You don’t take shit, you fight back. I can see why Morgan married ya. It doesn’t make it any easier for me to do what I have to though. Just remember this,” he bends down to look you in the eye again, “your curiosity is what got you here. If it weren’t for your own actions, you wouldn’t be about to suffer like this.”

Before you can say anything, Micah takes a bandana and ties it around your head, stuffing a good portion of it into your mouth. Then, he takes out his knife again and he begins carving into your body, making you scream into the bandana. You try to resolve yourself to not give him the satisfaction of your pain, but you don’t last very long. Tears leak from your eyes as he moves from your arms down to your abdomen. Soon it all becomes too much and you black out again.

*********************************

Night falls and you’re brought sharply back to reality by cold water splashing your face. You gasp and blink, getting a sense of what’s going on. You’re still tied up to the post in the cave. You look down at your body and see that Micah must have stopped slicing you up when you passed out. He’s standing in front of you again, an empty bucket in hand.

“Had a good rest, hmm? Well, I figure you’ve had long enough. Now, I want to remind you that I hate doin’ this to ya, hate doin’ this to your pretty body,” he runs a finger down your from your neck to your navel, making you shiver. “But I know you too well. There’s nothin’ I can do to prevent you from tellin’ Dutch what you saw.”

He straightens up again. “Maybe we can come to an agreement. I’m gonna ask you a question and if I don’t like your answer, you get punished, deal?”

As if you can answer, you’re still gagged. You tell him the answer with your eyes, hoping he can hear you saying to go fuck himself. He smacks his lips a bit and pulls out his gun, counting the bullets. Then, he grabs your gag and pulls it out, letting it hang beneath your chin. You take in a deep breath, finally able to breathe properly.

Before you can do anything else, Micah points the gun at you. “Do you promise not to tell anyone what you saw me doin’ with the Pinkertons?” His voice is soft, threatening.

Despite your fear and knowledge that he will shoot you, you shake your head. “I’m gonna tell every man, woman and child I see,” you spit.

Micah sighs and pulls the trigger. The bullet slams into your thigh, making you cry out in pain. You grip the ropes binding your hands, wishing they would break. Micah pulls back the hammer again and points it at your other leg.

“Do you promise not to tell anyone what you saw me doin’ with the Pinkertons?”

“You can shoot me a thousand times, Micah,” you hiss with a small whimper, “and you can rip out my guts. My answer ain’t ever gonna be different.”

Micah pulls the trigger again, shooting your other thigh and making you scream out again, sobs wrenching out from between your teeth. He sighs and puts the gun away, knowing he can only shoot you so many times before you die. It’s the last thing he wants because, despite things he’s said in the past, Micah is truly scared of what Arthur would do if he killed you.

He stands for a few seconds in front of you, seeming to ponder something as you gasp from the pain. Your lip trembles as you try to swallow it and glare up at him. He stomps away suddenly, muttering something beneath his breath. This leaves you alone with nothing but your pain as company. There isn’t a place on your body that doesn’t hurt anymore. You can only hope that Arthur will soon grow suspicious and go looking for you, but even if he does, how will he find you? You don’t even know where you are.

Your thoughts begin to spiral from here, growing darker. Tears of both pain and fear leak from your eyes. Dread fills you at the thought that you’ll be left in Micah’s clutches until you finally die, whenever he lets you.

***************************

Luckily for you, Micah has left to return to camp. He has to make an appearance in order to not arouse suspicions. Unfortunately for him, this immediately sets Arthur on edge as he knew you were following Micah, yet you’re nowhere to be found.

“Micah,” Arthur says, walking up to him.

“What is it, cowpoke?”

“You seen Y/N anywhere? She left about the same time you did, but she ain’t come back.”

“You know how she is. Out for days on end, always coming back covered in mud and hauling in a mountain of skins. She's fine, Morgan.”

Arthur didn’t like the way Micah’s eyes darted around when he’d spoken of you, and he also noticed small specks of blood on Micah’s knuckles. Of course, Micah’s known for getting into fistfights even in the middle of nowhere, but Arthur doesn’t like how things are stacking up. He’s worried, but he decides to play it cool for a bit. Maybe you will be back shortly dripping in animal furs.

By the next afternoon though, Arthur is thoroughly worried. He’d gone out in the morning to look for you with no success. He found your horse by a cabin, but not you. All your weapons were on your horse as well, so where were you? By the cabin, he found your gunbelt. It wasn’t cut off, so for some reason, either you or someone else removed it. He packed it back up on your horse and went back to camp. Something about the whole thing felt off.

Micah’s been lingering around camp all day, trying to play things cool. He’d snuck out while Arthur was out looking for you in order to give you some food and water, not wanting you to die on him. He needed to keep you alive long enough until he figured out what to do about Arthur. You’d refused the food of course, telling Micah a plethora of things to do to himself.

The sun’s beginning to set and Arthur is growing desperate. He’s sitting in his tent when he hears Micah talking to Javier and Bill.

“If we’re not more careful, we’re gonna lose more folks like poor Hosea, Lenny and Sean. I have a nagging suspicion that things are only going to get worse, and that someone else is gonna disappear. After all, someone’s been doing things behind Dutch’s back. Look at Morgan, goin’ to the Indians while Du-”

He’s cut off suddenly by Arthur grabbing him by his collar and shaking him a little. “Where is she, you little shit?”

“Let go of me!”

“WHERE IS SHE?!”

Micah claws at Arthur’s hands. “Why the hell would I know? I ain’t seen your damn wife since yesterday!”

“Oh really? Because she followed you out of camp. Next thing I know, she’s nowhere to be found but her horse was abandoned by a cabin along with her gunbelt. Where the hell is she?!”

Dutch marches over and he and Bill grab Arthur and force him off of Micah.

“Arthur! What is going on here?” Dutch demands.

“My wife, Dutch! My wife is missing and this maggot knows where she is!”

“That’s a damn lie! I have no more idea where she is more than anyone else here! For all we know, she’s the one feeding information to the Pinkertons.”

“Really?” Sadie says, holding a repeater in her hands. “Because she told me that if anyone’s a rat, it’s you.”

“That’s exactly what someone who is double crossing us would say!” Micah says, smiling to everyone else. “The fingers are pointing at me because I’ve been here the shortest amount of time.”

“I’ve been here less time,” Charles says defiantly, “and I’m not being accused, nor is anyone else. Of course, I haven’t been the one sneaking off at odd times every few days.”

“You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Micah hisses. “For all we know, she’s talking to the law right now, telling them right where we are!”

Arthur bares his teeth, still being held back by Bill, but before he can say anything, Uncle steps forward. “That girl’s been here ten years, and she’s married to Arthur. Why would she sell out her own family?”

“Don’t ask me to try and make sense of the traitor’s mind, old man, there ain’t no logic in there. Dutch,” Micah turns to him, almost begging for him to side with him. “I reckon she’ll saunter in here later tonight. The moment she does, we should question her.”

Dutch is narrowing his eyes, thinking. Arthur grabs his attention.

“Dutch, why would she betray us? What does she have to gain from doin’ that?”

“Maybe a sackload of money, cowpoke. I reckon for the right price, she’d leave your bed,” Micah growls.

That does it and Arthur yanks himself free, launching himself onto Micah. “You son of a bitch! You slimy snake!” He starts punching and hitting Micah, but Charles, Bill and John have to work together to pull him off again. Micah spits out a gob of blood.

“He’s crazy, Dutch. See? I bet he’s in league with her!”

“Shut up, Micah!” John snarls. “If anyone’s got a price to betray us, it’s you! You were the one who put us onto the Blackwater heist, and them Pinkertons have been onto us since you got back from Guarma.”

“Why would I sell you out?” Micah snaps.

“Because you have the most to gain from us all dyin’,” Sadie snarls, pointing her repeater at Micah.

“Enough!” Dutch says. “Micah, do you or do you not know where Y/N is?”

“Of course not, Dutch. Last time I saw her was here in camp yesterday.”

“I saw you leaving camp early this morning,” Charles says. “Where’d you go?”

“I was scouting.”

“Again? But you did that yesterday,” John points out.

Dutch furrows his brow. “Micah, why would you be scouting? We’re not looking to leave here yet until we have more money. There’s still been no word on the army’s train to fix the bridge, so why are you scouting?”

“Because we will need to be leaving eventually, Dutch, why not learn the best route now?”

“Because there’s no point to it until we have a way out of here,” Dutch says. Micah can tell Dutch is starting to see through his lie.

“Look, I can prove to you I’m not the rat. I’ll go hunt Y/N now, once I find her I’ll bring her right back and you can all question her yourselves.”

Dutch sighs but nods once. “You have six hours, Micah. Find her, bring her straight back here.”

Arthur throws Bill, Charles and John off him. “I’m goin’ too.”

“I ain’t takin’ you, cowpoke.”

“I don’t wanna go with you, Micah!” Arthur roars. “But she’s my wife, I’m gonna go look for her!”

Before anyone else can say anything, Arthur mounts up. To his surprise, Charles and John mount up as well.

“We’re coming with you, Morgan,” John says. “We don’t know what kind of trouble she might be in.”

Arthur nods and they all set out. Micah heads in the other direction, opposite of where your cave lies in case someone tries to follow him again.

************************************

You stare at the tin mug of water Micah left behind. You’re desperately thirsty, but you’ve no way to get it and take a drink as you’re still tied up. The binds around your wrists are beginning to rub you raw and your legs are still bleeding, along with the many cuts across your body. You’ve never experienced this much pain in your life.

Outside, you can see the sun is setting again. You haven’t seen Micah since this morning, but you haven’t seen anyone else either. You tried screaming in order to get the attention of a potential passerby, but you screamed yourself hoarse before anyone heard you. What little hope you have left has long since left your body.

Micah marches into the cave, looking furious, his face purpling with bruises.

“Who beat you up, Micah? I wanna send them a thank-you note,” you spit, though your voice is raw.

“Was your good ol’ husband, but I got a little gift for him myself.” Micah slips his knife out. “Change of plans, girl. I was intending to keep you here a long time, but your damn husband is starting to suspect me. Man’s smarter than I give him credit for.”

Micah suddenly grabs your jaw and starts trying to reach in your mouth for your tongue. You thrash around and end up sinking your teeth into his finger, making him cry out. When he pulls out his finger, you see blood.

“Damn it!” he grunts. He wants to make sure you can’t talk, but you’re still putting up quite a fight. He can tell he has to wear you down even more. Putting his knife away, he gives you a disgusted look and then he begins pounding his fist into your face, arms and ribs. After a few moments, he tries wrestling your tongue out again, but you spit blood into his face.

“You little bitch!” he snarls and he pulls his knife out again. He plunges it into the very edge of your abdomen in a place he knows he won’t kill you, but it hurts like hell. You scream out in pain and he yanks the knife out, causing you to sob again.

“Do I have to skin you, bitch?” he growls, trying to wrestle you so he can take your tongue yet again. Still though, you try with all your might to fight him off, biting whatever part of his hand you can reach.

“You think I’m not willing to do the worst to you?” he says. He takes his knife and suddenly grips your face harder than he’s done before. He tilts your head back and holds the point of his knife above your left eye.

You’re just about to beg Micah not to when he suddenly shoots back and up. He flips over and lands with a loud thud, revealing Arthur.

“Get your hands off my wife, you sack of shit,” he growls. He takes one look at you and his face immediately goes from his terrifying scowl to a worried expression. He gestures for John to take his place on pinning Micah down and he comes over to you, slipping his knife out and cutting your bonds off.

“Arthur,” you groan.

“Shh, shh. I got ya, darlin’.”

The moment your arms are free, your body slinks down and he catches you. Once you’re in his arms, he shrugs his coat off and drapes it around you. “I got ya, I got ya.” He looks back at Charles and John. “Get that sack of shit tied up and out of here. I’ll take care of her.”

They nod and do just that. Arthur picks you up gently as he can and brings you outside of the cave and then lays you down on your back beside the river. You try to cry, feeling relieved and finally safe, but you can’t seem to produce any tears.

“Easy, sweetheart. That bastard did a number on you. Gonna get you cleaned up.”

“Arthur,” you whine again, just wanting him to hold you.

“Shh, shh, I know, darlin’, I know. I’ll be gentle as I can.” He unbuttons the bottom of your shirt so he can bandage the big cut, stating Grimshaw can stitch it up. He then inspects your legs. “Shit, bullets are still in there. Darlin’, I’m real sorry about this. But we gotta get you home like this, I can’t get ‘em out.”

You nod stiffly and he lifts you up easily, though painfully. He apologizes profusely, but somehow he manages to get you onto his horse. Although he tries to make the ride gentle, it’s incredibly painful. Each step the horse takes jerks your body. You bury the back of your head into Arthur’s chest, who is still apologizing.

After what feels like an eternity, you see Beaver Hollow come into view. Arthur pats your shoulder gently. “Told you I’d get ya home, sweetheart. You’re gonna be okay. Just hang on, okay? We’re gonna skin that bastard.”

The moment Arthur stops his horse, you slump almost lifeless against him. Dutch, Javier and the girls come running over.

“Y/N!” Dutch calls out. “Y/N, what happened?”

“I fucking told you, Dutch! We caught Micah doin’ his best to carve her up! Where is that little shit?”

“He’s tied up near the cave,” Grimshaw says, coming over to the horse. “Come on, let’s get her to bed.”

Javier and Dutch help lift you down, but it’s even more painful than the entire ride back to Beaver Hollow. You let out a cry of pain and they both apologize. Dutch tries picking you up bridal style, but Arthur pushes him out of the way and picks you up, which you prefer. You’ve been mistrustful of Dutch for some time now.

As Arthur carries you, you hear John talking to Micah. “We’re gonna kill you for what you done to her.”

You have a horrible suspicion that none of them know that Micah’s the traitor. “Arthur… Arthur stop. We can’t kill him.”

“What you talking about, darlin’? If anyone’s earned a bullet in their head, he has.”

“I’m not saying we won’t, but not yet,” you say between gritted teeth. “Just not yet.”

Arthur sighs and stops. “Let’s get you to bed first, then you can tell Dutch what you know.”

You don’t have the energy to tell him otherwise, so you let him take you to your tent and lay you down into the cot. Grimshaw comes over, barking orders at the other girls to get supplies to start patching you up. She tries pushing Arthur out, but he refuses to leave so she lets him. Just as she starts trying to get down to work, you stop her with what strength you have left.

“Dutch. Get Dutch,” you say.

Grimshaw rolls her eyes, but complies. Dutch comes over, looking worried.

“Micah…” you say. “Micah’s the rat, Dutch. I saw him talking to Milton. He told them about your plan for the bridge.”

“You say you saw this?” Dutch says. He looks at you hard for a moment. “I want to believe you, Y/N, but I have a problem: Micah says he saw you talking to Pinkertons.”

“Then why’d he torture her?” Arthur demands. “If he’s the innocent one, then why didn’t he bring her here for us to deal with her? Y/N told me last time she was in camp that she was gonna follow him. Next thing we know, she’s tied up in some cave with Micah trying to pull her eyes out.”

“Micah says he did that as payback for her betraying us.”

“The Pinkertons busted me,” you say. “They wanted me dead, but Micah knew… knew if I died, you’d kill him right away, Arthur. Knew his cover would be blown the moment my death was discovered. But he knew he needed to silence me. That’s why he shot my legs, Dutch. Was tryin’ to get me to promise to not say a word.”

“Dutch,” Arthur says, “if she’s the traitor, it wouldn’t make sense for her bein’ the one all tore up like this.”

“I say we do to him what he’s done to her,” Grimshaw snarls. You feel a surge of warmth towards her. Sure, she might have her flaws, but she’s always been protective of you and the other girls. “We’ll get him to talk if he’s the one lying.”

Dutch sighs, but then he nods. “Take him into the cave, get him tied up. Let Charles have at him for a while, then I’ll talk to him.”

With that settled, Grimshaw and the other girls get down to work. They start rooting around in your legs for the bullets, which is so painful that you pass out again, which Arthur is grateful for as he holds your hand. It breaks his heart to see you like this, but at least now you don’t have to be present for the pain.

****************************

Two days have passed and you still haven’t woken. Arthur’s more worried about you than he’s ever been, and he’s more angry. He wanted to be the one to beat Micah senseless, but Dutch pleaded him not to. Dutch wasn’t entirely convinced you were the one telling the truth as Micah had spun his web very well. He figured the others should be the one to question Micah as Arthur was too involved.

Arthur has stayed by your side the entire time you were being worked on, and then long after the girls were done patching you up. Nothing has shaken his anger, but as he sits by your cot holding your hand, Sadie walks up to him.

“Bastard’s dead,” she growled. “He didn’t even get half the shit he did to her before spilling the beans. He’s been talkin’ to them Pinkertons sometime now, he was the one who told them about Saint Dennis.”

Arthur feels a further tightening in his gut. “So Hosea…”

“He’s the one who got Hosea killed, not Molly,” Sadie says, sitting down at the foot of your bed. “Dutch heard the whole thing. He’s the one who shot Micah.”

Arthur sighs, feeling conflicted. While he’s grateful that Micah’s dead, he’s livid that he was the one responsible for Hosea, Lenny and so much trouble.

“Stay strong, Arthur,” Sadie says. “Y/N needs you to be for her. There ain’t nothin’ you can do anyways. It’s over.”

“It ain’t over, Sadie. Dutch might know the truth now, but he’s still crazy. I doubt this will clear his head.”

“Maybe not. I guess all we can do is wait.”

A few more hours pass and the sun sets before you begin to stir. Pain comes slamming back into your body, making you whimper, but Arthur hasn’t moved. He clutches your hand the second he hears you and he begins comforting you.

When you’ve woken up a little more, he tells you everything that’s happened since your return. You feel a surge of relief, and maybe even a little pride that you took a far worse beating than Micah and didn’t break. However, due to the pain and even shock of what could have happened, you’re shaken.

Arthur must be able to see you trembling. Gently as he can, he shifts you so that he can sit right beside you and hold you against his chest. The warmth of his body is a welcome relief as you’re chilled, but it’s the sound of his heart that brings the best form of comfort. As he brushes your hair, you look up at him.

“Thank you for finding me, Arthur. You saved my life.”

He smiles and kisses your head. “Well, you’ve saved me plenty. I still owe you more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly welcomed! Let me know what you guys think, even if you don't like what you read.


	93. The Witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: you know how Arthur can drink from the witches cauldron in Ambarino and then he passes out? what if when he wakes up he’s in the shackles in the shack and reader is the witch whose cauldron he drank from 👀

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: smut

Arthur shivers a bit, a result of the heavy rain that’s been coming down for the good part of an hour. He came up to Ambarino, following the prompts of a treasure map and was making progress on it too until this storm arrived. Not only that, but night is falling.

He decides to call it for the day, so he turns his horse off the trail, giving her a grateful pat. His bond with her has never been stronger as there have been times she’s been the only one he could talk to for days on end, much like the past few. He’s barely seen another person for the past three days in search of this treasure. She gives a snort and shakes her mane of the tumultuous rain as she approaches a cluster of trees.

As Arthur scans the land, looking for a good place to pitch his tent where it’ll be best protected from the rain and wind, something catches his eye. The flicker of light from between the trunks. He recognizes the light of a fire, but he was under the impression that no one lived up here. Perhaps it’s a fellow camper, but he wouldn’t mind a bit of human company for even a moment or two.

When he’s a bit closer to the trees, he dismounts and comes closer. Nestled in the copse, he sees a skeleton of a cabin, but the structure of it intrigues him. There’s a crudely thatched roof made of the trees’ branches, almost like they’ve been prompted to grow in such a fashion. The antlered skull of an elk sits on a low table, a huge black crow sitting on one of the antlers. He turns his inky eye to glare at Arthur.

There’s a lit lantern in the opposite corner of the skull and near it, a cauldron with some kind of almost clear liquid bubbling. He takes in a deep breath as he inspects it, and a sweet, gentle scent that reminds him of honeysuckle floods his nose.

As he looks at the caldron, he hears something outside the one wall still standing. He looks but sees no one, not even an animal, but he gets the feeling there’s someone there. He approaches the window in the wall and looks out, but again there’s no one. That feeling still lingers though. Suddenly the crow gives a loud squawk and takes flight, pulling his attention. He decides there’s no point in looking for something that isn’t there, he’s just being paranoid. A result of the rain, the night and this strange place.

The bubbling liquid calls to him again, so he turns to it and pulls out his tin cup. He dips it in and then gives it another whiff. Still the same scent of honeysuckle but also a new flavor of honey. Although he knows it’s foolish, he hears the faintest voice in his head tell him to drink it, so he does.

The moment the liquid touches his lips, he feels suddenly drowsy. He has just enough time to put the tin cup in his satchel and then he collapses, the world fading to black.

***********************************

It’s impossible to say how long he’s been under, but his eyes suddenly open. The world is still dark and he can hear a slight drizzle of rain. He’s probably only been under for about an hour, he wonders just what in the hell that stuff was. As he begins to become more conscious, he realizes he’s not lying on the ground. In fact, he’s not lying down at all. He’s standing, his back pressed to one of the pillars that formed the boundary of the cabin. His hands are shackled above his head.

He’s beginning to panic now and he looks around, his heart pounding. On a small table near the cauldron, he sees his hat, resting on the open, dusty pages of a book near candles, their trunks thick with melting wax. He starts pulling on the shackles again, trying fruitlessly to free himself.

“Do not fight, you’ll end up hurting yourself,” comes a gentle, female voice from the darkness outside the wall.

“Who is that?” he calls out and you decide to reveal yourself.

“Do not be afraid, Arthur Morgan. I mean you no harm.” You slip out of the shadows and Arthur’s eyes widen a bit. He knows immediately you were the one he sensed outside just before he drank the potion. You’re beautiful though, but not only that, he’s seen you before.

“I know you,” he says softly. “I’ve seen you.”

“In your dreams, I know,” you say. “I hope you will forgive me, I have been watching you a long time. You have a strength in you that is rarely seen. I thought you might recognize me, you’re far more intuitive than those around you give you credit for.”

You come closer to him, letting the light better show your face. Arthur’s mouth is slightly open.

“Why have you been watchin’ me? I ain’t no one special.”

“On the contrary, Arthur. I… I have many powers, and I have used them to wander the fabrics of time. I have seen the things that have come and gone, and things that are yet to be. I have seen the people that will come to inhabit this land with their strange machines. They are all the same. Most of the people living here now are the same. But you… you are different.”

You begin to talk of his undying loyalty, how he’s never been afraid of death nor has he let it control him. His admiration of the world rather than possessing a hunger to control it.

“It is a rare thing,” you finish, “to find a person who would leave nature, our mother, exactly as she is. You understand that to control our mother is to ensure our death. That we should run to her rather than from her. Death and life form the perfect balance of nature, just as night and day balance one another out. You know this, Arthur, I know you do.”

You’ve come closer to him, and he’s drawn to your words. He feels an odd sense of calmness despite being chained up.

“You know all these things, Arthur, just as there is a balance to hate… and love.” With your last words, you gently place your hands on Arthur’s shoulders and you lean in and kiss him. He feels as though he knows you as well as anyone he’s known for years, as though you’ve been with him for a long time.

As you kiss him, your hands work at his shirt and unbutton it, and your fingers brush down his body, exploring his skin. You feel so good with your hands on him and your lips upon his own.

“Mr. Morgan, would you mind if I went further?” you whisper, kissing his chin.

He leans his head back, feeling oddly at peace. He knows that you are little more than a stranger to him, yet he still has the sense he knows you. Not only that, he feels as though he’s had a deeply personal relationship with you, even nearly an erotic one. He can feel his body responding, his cock hardening in his pants.

“No,” he says and he sighs when you kiss his neck.

Without a word, your hands fumble with his pants. Your fingers stretch into the fabric and you grasp his length, making it even harder. You pull it out, looking down at it.

“You have experienced the pain of hate too much, Mr. Morgan,” you say as you stroke and pump his throbbing member, making him groan. “I want you to experience the gift of love.”

Your fingers work more around his cock, studying the thick vein running down it to his head, blossoming a purplish red. Your finger runs along the slit of his head, sending him into a near frenzy. He thrusts his hips out, wishing he could hold onto you, but also turned on to the fact that he’s helpless in your grip. Your other hand slides down his cock, fondling between his legs. He’s never felt so turned on before, and part of him wonders if you’re wanting him to slip in between your legs.

Before he has the chance to ask, your fingers brush around his head again and he can’t hold back anymore. You feel him twitch hard and can tell he’s about to release, so you rub him hard and slow, allowing him to finally release. He grunts, as his seed drips down to the grass beneath him.

He lets out an almost pained gasp when he finishes, his head leaning back against the post. It’s only then that he feels the bottle leave his tip and he looks down.

“Wha’s was that for?” he asks.

“You have no idea the life-giving power sex can give, Mr. Morgan,” you say. “I hope you do not mind, I perform the magic with any man, but the intention I have for it calls for it to be performed with a man… whom I love.” You seem hesitant as you say the last bit, not looking at him.

“You… you love me?” he says softly. “How can you love me when you don’t even know me?”

“I told you, Arthur,” you say. “I have been watching you a long time. I know your father’s name was Lyle. He was a criminal, but worse he was an abusive father whom you watched die, but too late. Your mother loved you though. After your parents died, your two father figures Dutch Van der Linde and Hosea Matthews found you and formed a small gang.”

You go onto further details of his life that only those who had spent a long time with him could possibly know. He feels a surge of affection towards you at the thought that you’ve been watching out for him all his life.

“Who are you?” he asks.

You tell him your name. “I must live out here alone because most would find my ideas… blasphemy. I do not believe in the Christian god, nor any of the others you would be familiar with. I prefer to worship nature rather than cathedrals full of statues of dead men. For my deep respect of nature and her powers, I am forced to live alone. That is why I chose to project my consciousness and search for companions, which is how I found you.”

You look at him again, then you beckon your fingers towards his shackles and they suddenly release. His arms lower and he looks at them, fascinated. He doesn’t even care anymore that his soft cock is still dangling out of his pants. That is until he looks back at you.

You’re slipping your long robe off your body and he looks at your naked form. “Now Arthur, I’ve shown you the balance of hate and life. You know the pain of death, now let me show you the beauty of life.”

Before he can say anything else, you lie down on the wooden floor of the cabin and spread your legs, letting him see you completely. Drawn to your strange powers, Arthur walks over to you and strips out of his clothes, now as naked as you. He sinks down to his knees and puts his hands on yours.

“Tell me, darlin’,” he says, gazing at your slit. “You’re talkin’ of love and life. You ever known pleasure?”

You smile a bit. “There’s many forms of that, Arthur. But if you’re talking of the kind that I think you are, I regret to tell you that I have never known it.”

“Then let me show you something,” he says and he suddenly dips down and begins to suck and lick at your wet opening. You hiss a little as his tongue focuses on your sweet spot. Before long, he has you panting and moaning, begging him for more.

Too soon though, he lifts his face up and crawls towards you, dipping down to suck on your neck. His hands fondle your breasts and his cock pushes into your core, making you groan. You don’t tell him, but you’ve never lain with a man before. Although you’ve loved Arthur for years and have touched yourself, pretending it’s him, you’ve never cared to sleep with another man. His cock stretches your walls, slightly painful at first, but as he pleasures you more, one hand slipping down to rub your clit, you feel the discomfort leave your body.

Your hips begin thrusting against his and he smiles into your neck, and then he begins to move with you, his cock pushing further into you. Suddenly his head brushes against something that sets your body on fire and you let out a satisfied moan.

“Ah, yes… Arthur, yes…” you pant as he performs the movement again.

“God, you feel good,” he says into your neck. It’s been years since he’s fucked anyone, and even then it wasn’t like this. He feels like he’s connecting with you in all corners, like there’s nothing separating you from him. He also loves the sounds you’re making, nothing has ever sounded so wonderful. He controls his cock enough to brush the spot you seem to like, making you go crazy for him.

Before long, the two of you are fucking hard and fast, acting like animals. Positions are switched and you end up straddling him on top, allowing him to go as deep as he can. It isn’t long either until you feel a strange sensation blossoming in your chest. It moves down as Arthur strokes your clit and roots around inside of you.

“Arthur, I’m gonna… I’m gonna… shit, I’m gonna!” you whimper. He gives one last flick of your clit and you’re suddenly exploding on top of him, your back arching and a loud groan ripping from your throat. Watching you come on top of him sends him over the edge too and he thrusts his hips hard and sends his seed pouring into you.

“Shit, shit,” he growls. He hadn’t meant to come inside of you, the last thing he wants is for you to get pregnant. You look down and see the regret on his face.

“Arthur, do not despair. What we did was a beautiful, natural thing.” You take his hand and place it on your stomach.

“You won’t be sayin’ that in nine months if....” he says.

“Yes, I will. I too have experienced the pain of death too often. But I have never experienced the gift of life. If nature wills it, then it will be so.”

He sits up so he can kiss you, pulling you down to lay on top of him. “If that happens, I promise I’ll try and do right by you.”

“I know you will,” you say and you kiss him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly welcomed and appreciated!


	94. Traitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Arthur meeting the reader in Valentine and them getting along great, but then finding out mid fight (or mid kidnap of arthur if you like) that reader is an O'Driscoll 🙊🙈🙉

You smile as Arthur walks away, feeling elevated. You’ve never been so happy since you got together with him. Walking down the street, you think about the next time you might see him again, which you hope will be soon. 

Arthur’s the perfect companion, although he has obligations elsewhere that keep him away from you for periods of time. You are the same way though, but you’ll never tell him. Arthur thinks you’re just a bounty hunter, hence why you’re so quiet about where you live. You told him you’ve captured plenty of gang members and turned them in (a partial truth), and you’re afraid to tell anyone where you live in fear that a fellow gang member of one of the people you’ve turned in will come after you. 

Sure, you do hunt down bounties for extra money, but it’s not your main occupation. You’ve told Arthur a lot about yourself, but you’ll never tell him you’re part of the O’Driscoll gang. No one can know that, your freedom depends on it. Not only that, but you’re scared of how Colm will react if he finds out you’ve told anyone. 

Colm O’Driscoll, the leader of your gang. He’s a ruthless, blood thirsty bastard, but you know nothing else. There are times you’re not even sure why you’ve stuck with the gang so long with no intentions to get out. Perhaps it’s because Colm has drilled one idea into everyone: if you leave the gang, you’ll leave in a pine box. The O’Driscoll gang is a lifelong commitment. 

You’ve wanted to tell Arthur for weeks about the truth of yourself, but you just can’t do it. Colm would shoot you without blinking an eye if he found out you told anybody. However, you love Arthur, more than you’ve ever loved anyone. You’ve known him for a few weeks now and he knows everything else about you. You’ve also done just about everything with him, including getting yourselves out of a fair number of scrapes. 

You mount up on your horse, your mind still full of the recent memories you’ve just made with Arthur. You’re excited to see him again already, despite him having just left Valentine. This past meeting had been particularly steamy. Arthur recently showed you his skills as an artist, and when you showed how much you loved and appreciated them, he went a bit further. The two of you had booked a room in the hotel and things were getting hot and heavy between you when Arthur suddenly stopped. He asked you if he could draw you, to keep a picture of you for himself during the long periods he can’t see you. Smiling, you simply couldn’t resist, so Arthur drew you naked on the bed, ready and patiently waiting for him. It’d been an exhilarating time as you’d gotten extremely excited and even inpatient. You just wanted him to jump right in, and when he finally did, it was one of the most intense sessions you’d ever had in your life. 

You try to push the thoughts from your mind, not wanting to blush for no reason in the presence of strangers. You kick your horse and get her running so you can head back to Hanging Dog ranch, which is where the O’Driscolls have been holding themselves up for the past few weeks.

When you get to the ranch, you find that Colm and several of his men are gone. Odd. He’d mentioned just before you left that he was planning a big job that he needed everyone’s help with. Hell, that’s the only reason you returned. Ever since you met Arthur, you’ve been feeling less loyalty to Colm. Arthur makes you feel special, makes you feel wanted. Colm is the opposite. He makes you feel like you’re merely tolerated. You don’t think he treats you like this because you’re a woman, he treats just about everyone like this. But it doesn’t make you want to stay, especially after Arthur. 

After dismounting, you walk up to Simons, one of the higher ups in the gang. 

“Where’s Colm? Thought we was doin’ a job,” you say. 

“We are. Said we needed one last piece before we can pull it off. But you do have a job.” He calls over a few more men. “Colm said before he left he wanted me and a few others to go to a cabin Colm found just north of the Upper Montana. Wants us to wait there.” 

“Why?” you say. 

“Don’t ask questions,” Simons snaps. 

You swallow and straighten yourself. You know that Colm nor any of his higher men have patience for questions. They expect everyone to just do their jobs with no fuss. 

“Sorry, sir,” you say. 

“Good. Now mount up, all of you. Colm wants us there tonight. Says he’ll have some cargo.” 

You climb up into your saddle once again and your group heads off. A few hours later, you see the small cabin where Colm wants you stationed. It’s a tiny property not far from the railroad with a small shed standing beside the house. You notice the two large doors leading to the underground cellar, but think nothing of it. 

Simons dismounts and starts barking orders. He instructs you to go to town, pick up a few provisions and then he stuffs a list into your hand. Sighing, you mount right back up and head to town. You don’t know why this can’t wait until morning, the sun’s nearly set. But you know better than to argue. You won’t quickly forget the many bruises you’ve received from Simons’s strikes. 

When you get to Strawberry, you decide to take your time. It was easy being part of this gang before you met Arthur. Maybe it was because they were the only kind of family you ever really knew. But now that you know Arthur and he’s described the people he lives with (without disclosing that he’s part of a gang too), it’s harder than ever to be loyal to Colm. More and more you’ve been thinking of asking Arthur if you could find a safe haven with him, somewhere Colm would have a hard time getting his hands on you. 

In the general store, you give the clerk your list and he gets his shop boy to collect your items. While they’re bustling about, you inspect a small display set up with pastel pencils. You wonder if Arthur would like them. He could do some real magic with colors. You buy them and tuck them deep in your saddlebag to ensure no one in your gang discovers them. 

However, even though it’s past nightfall, you still don’t want to go back to the others, so you take a bath in the hotel. In the hot water, your mind returns to Arthur. If only he were here now with you. You imagine he is, wrapping his strong arms around you, his lips brushing against your temple. When you’re with him, you feel like you don’t have to be tough, that you can relax. He makes you feel protected and safe. The exact opposite of the O’Driscolls, who expect you to be tough and quick to pull your trigger. 

Finally enough time has passed and you have to go back before anyone gets suspicious. When you see the small cabin, you see that more people have joined. Colm’s horse is tied up with the others. You sigh and hitch your own, taking the supplies from the store to the cabin. Colm walks out of the cellar, snapping the doors shut. 

“You,” he says, snapping his fingers at you. “Get some food cookin’, I’m starving.” 

You nod and go into the cabin to find things to cook with, including a large cast-iron pot. You take it outside and set it over the fire that someone set up, and then you begin preparing the food. 

As you cut and season, some of the others pass by, talking to one another. Colm’s gone into the house. Typical that he would go and relax somewhere cool while the rest of you work. 

“What’s Colm’s plans for this bastard again?” McMillan says in his thick accent to Simons. 

“I told you, McMillan. You need to learn how to listen. He’s gonna lure Dutch out with him then turn him into the authorities in Blackwater. When we get all that money, we’re gonna hightail it to Mexico.” 

“I don’t wanna go to Mexico. I wanna go home.” 

“Well, get over it. We all wanna go home, but it ain’t happenin’.” 

Simons stalks off, looking irritated. McMillan stands near you, lighting a cigarette. Dutch, they’d said. There’s only one man they could’ve meant, Dutch Van der Linde. You’ve been with the gang long enough to know his name. Colm’s greatest adversary. There’s been a feud between Colm and Dutch for as long as you can remember. Something about Colm’s brother and a girl Dutch was associated with, but you know little else. Dutch has stolen plenty of scores from Colm though, he’s been itching to get a leg up on him for a while. Now it seems he has, if he has someone who’s part of Dutch’s gang. 

“McMillan,” you say softly. “Who’s he got down in the cellar?” 

McMillan’s a good guy, or at least he’s one of the better ones in the gang. He doesn’t mind questions and he’s always up for a laugh. He walks over to talk. 

“We snagged one of Dutch’s boys, guess he’s one of the bigger ones too. Dutch’s right hand man, I guess. Got him tied up in the cellar, gonna lure Dutch out wit’ him.” 

“Really? This bastard got a name?” you ask, though you don’t really care. You’ve no feelings towards Dutch and his boys. 

“Sure. Think I heard them call ‘im Arthur.” 

Your stomach suddenly drops and the knife slips, nearly cutting your finger. “Arthur? Arthur what?” 

You hope to God he doesn’t say the last name you’re thinking. There must be plenty of Arthur’s, right? It’s a popular name. 

“Uh, Morgan. Arthur Morgan,” McMillan scratches his chin, then he looks at you. “Ya feelin’ a’right? You’re real pale.” 

You swallow, feeling your eyes bulging. “Y-yeah, I’m fine.” 

Luckily McMillan gets called away and you’re left alone to ponder. They’ve grabbed your Arthur. He’s never told you he was one of Dutch’s boys. You’re not angry about that though, figuring he must not have told you for the same reasons you told him nothing about being an O’Driscoll. Fear grips you hard. You can’t let Colm do this, you won’t be able to live with yourself. As the night deepens, you come up with a plan. 

At one point, Colm takes his food and goes back down to the cellar. You stay near the door and listen to him talk, and it breaks your heart to hear Arthur’s weak voice respond. It breaks even more when you hear Colm hitting him. You can’t stand it, and suddenly you’re not in charge of your body. You dash down the stairs, whipping out your pistol and smashing the butt of it into Colm’s head, knocking him out. 

Arthur, hanging upside down, a sack around his head, looks up at you. He stutters your name, coughing a little. “How… how you know I was here.” 

“I’ll explain later. Come on.” You act quickly, grabbing a file from the table and jabbing it into the lock holding Arthur up. It clicks and he drops to the ground, grunting. You lean down, trying to keep the fear at bay, and whip the sack off his head. It’s then that you see the blood. 

“Oh God, you’ve been shot. Arthur,” you whimper.

“It’s nothin’.” 

You help him stumble to the seat, perfectly aware that at any second, one of the others could come down and kill you. However, you know this bullet needs to come out, but you don’t have the time. 

“Arthur, where can I take you? Where’s Dutch?” you say quickly. 

“You… you know Dutch?” 

“Where is he?” you say with more urgency. 

He swallows heavily. “Clemens Point. Scarlett Meadows.” 

You’re not entirely sure where that is, but it must be near Rhodes. You help him stand up and drape his unhurt arm around your shoulders, then you take your pistol back out. You’re going to have to shoot your way out, but you don’t care. These men you’ve run with, they’re hardly more than strangers to you. Most of them you don’t like because they constantly talk about the horrible things they do to the women they pay for. You know it’s only because of your own position in the gang that prevents them from doing the same to you. 

“Okay, Arthur. I’m getting you out of here.” 

You heave and help Arthur walk up the stairs. The moment you get out, Simons sees you. 

“What th-” 

BAM!

Your bullet slams into his skull and the shooting starts. However, you’re severely outnumbered and it doesn’t help you’re being weighed down by Arthur. Then you feel your other pistol being tugged out of your holster and he aims it, killing McMillan. You have no time though to really fight off the others, you start hobbling to the horses. As Arthur shoots the O’Driscolls coming towards you, you pat his horse. 

“Arthur, can you ride?” you grunt, your back hurting. 

“I’ll try,” he says. He ends up killing the last visible O’Driscoll, so you help him climb into the saddle. You climb up in front of him so he can lean forward and rest on your shoulder. As you begin turning away from the cabin, you whistle for your horse and you ride off. 

Hours pass and you finally make your way into Lemoyne. Arthur’s been in and out of consciousness most of the time, but when you get into Scarlett Meadows, he wakes up enough to begin directing you. He points you down a path with a dead tree at the beginning of it, so you turn the horse down it and go into the thick wood. 

As you get closer to the lake, you see the lights of fires between the trunks, and as you get nearer to them, tents and wagons. People are milling about. 

“Arthur!” a thin, gangly man says, standing up from a bedroll, throwing down his book and running over. He’s accompanied by a young woman in a dark pink dress and another woman, who’s older, her dark hair streaked with gray. 

You begin dismounting and help Arthur down, feeling very out of place. You’re immediately shoved aside as the others grab Arthur and begin hauling him over to a tent. You follow a few steps behind and watch as they begin performing surgery to get the bullet out. A tall, dark haired man approaches, looking worried. 

“Ma’am, I wanna thank you for bringing him back. Some… rival bastards I know got hold of him.” 

“I know, it was the O’Driscolls,” you say stupidly. 

“You know them?” he says. 

“We’ve bumped into each other before,” you say, trying to cover your tracks. He seems to buy it. 

“Are you Y/N?” the small woman in the pink dress says. “Arthur’s told us about you. Lucky that you found him.” 

“Yes. My name’s Y/N. He’ll be okay, right?” 

She sighs. “I… I think so, long as he don’t get sick. Why don’t you go be with him? Ms. Grimshaw’s got the bullet out and Strauss is just stitchin’ him up.” 

You go into Arthur’s tent, feeling dozens of eyes on you. The man named Strauss is busy, sewing the large hole in Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur is still awake, and he smiles when he sees you. 

Strauss pays you no mind and he quickly finishes, leaving the seat. You take it and grab Arthur’s hand. 

“Thank God you found me,” Arthur says softly. You don’t hear him, but Dutch has walked up behind you. 

“It wasn’t hard,” you say, feeling like crying. You need to come clean about your past. 

“How did you know I was there?” Arthur asks. 

“I, um… Arthur, I… I’ve been lying to you. I hope you can forgive me. I didn’t tell you for the same reasons you didn’t tell me you were part of a gang. But I’ve been running with the O’Driscolls for-” 

You’re suddenly yanked up from the seat and slammed into the wagon, the dark haired man’s face inches from yours. 

“You’re an O’Driscoll?” he hollers, his arm pressing into your throat. You claw at him, tring to breathe. “You were with them! You did this to him!” 

“N-n-o,” you sputter. People are running over and watching, but no one’s helping you as the man chokes you. 

“You are! I just heard you. You’re an O’Driscoll!” 

Someone finally grabs the man and yanks him off of you. Your rescuer turns out to be Arthur, who crawled out of bed to yank him off of you. 

“Dutch! Ya can’t kill her!” 

“You heard her, Arthur!” Dutch hollers, standing up as you hunker down, massaging your throat. “She’s an O’Driscoll!” 

“Yeah, but she didn’t do nothin’ to get me caught, Dutch! She saved me from them!” 

“How do we know she isn’t bringing the others with her, Arthur? How do we know this isn’t part of their plans?” 

Everyone looks at you, sitting on the ground. Of course, Arthur has no answer. 

“Tie her up. If those bastards come, she’s the first to die.” 

“No, Arthur… Dutch, please…” you begin, but two pairs of hands are grabbing you and hauling you away. No one helps as you scream for Arthur to help you. On the borders of the camp, your tied up to a tree with your back pinned to it. You plead with the big man with his bushy brown beard as he ties you up, but he says nothing. Afterwards, you’re left alone.

*************************************

Days pass with you tied up to the tree. You haven’t seen Arthur since you were pulled away from him, but you’ve seen the others plenty. All of them have thrown you fierce, hating looks. A little boy came up at one point and started mocking you for crying, calling you a traitor. 

There was a time though when a thin man with a twitchy face came up. You recognized him: Kieran. You’ve thought all this time that he was dead. He told you how Arthur captured him and how he was in the same predicament as you until he saved Arthur’s life. 

“Yeah, but I’m hated because I saved Arthur’s life,” you said miserably. “I brought him home and… they hate me for it. I hate being an O’Driscoll, but I had no choice. Kieran, please help me.” 

He apologized but said there was nothing he could do as he was barely part of the gang himself. A while later, Dutch and the thin, gangly man came up and questioned you. 

“Where’s Colm holed up, O’Driscoll?” Dutch growled. 

Your lip trembled, you knew it was foolish to tell them where Colm was when they’ll probably end up killing you as soon as you tell them. So you say nothing, despite feeling no loyalty to Colm. 

The worst part of being tied up to this tree is that Arthur hasn’t been seen. You know he’s alive based on pieces of conversations you’ve heard from the others, but he hasn’t come to see you. It doesn’t appear that he’s going to try and help you either. Maybe the truth was far worse for him to take than you thought. Perhaps he feels extremely betrayed. You can’t blame him though. How could he not be hurt? 

The third day and you’re starting to get sick from lack of water. You can barely hold yourself up anymore, but the rope’s tied you around in such a way that you can’t sit down. You’re bent over, trying not to puke what very little is left in your stomach. You can’t really hear the others very well anymore, your tongue feels swollen and itchy. You just wish someone would come and kill you. 

“Here,” a soft voice says close to you. You look up, your puffy eyes taking in the small woman you saw when you first came. She’s holding a tin cup of water. “I asked them to let you go, you did bring Arthur back after all. They don’t wanna listen to me though, but here.” 

She holds the tin cup and helps you drink. As you’re halfway through it, another woman with angry eyes hidden beneath a wide hat walks up. 

“Don’t give her the satisfaction, Mary-Beth. She’s an O’Driscoll. All those bastards deserve to die.” 

“But she brought Arthur back to us,” Mary-Beth says, lowering the cup. “She can’t be all bad.” 

“Yeah, until her trap is sprung and they all come to kill us.” 

“I… I didn’t bring anyone else with me,” you say in a weak voice. “They don’t know where I am. Colm… wants me dead as much as you all.” 

“Whatever, don’t think you can lie to us.” 

“Sadie, she’s just-” 

“Leave it, Mary-Beth! Now leave her alone.” 

Sadie pushes Mary-Beth away and the two women leave, abandoning you to your misery once more. 

*******************************************  
Two more days have passed and the only thing holding you up is the rope, but it’s digging hard into your wrists. No one’s come to see you since Mary-Beth and Sadie, not even Dutch demanding answers. He’s put out a thicker guard though, expecting the O’Driscolls to come barging in. 

It’s night and you’re dozing a bit, not really aware of what’s going around you. Suddenly the ropes break and you fall onto your face. Someone steps up beside you and you expect to feel them hurt you, but instead, strong yet gentle hands pick you up. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” Arthur says. He can’t pick you up because of his shoulder, but he helps you hobble over to his tent. You’re so thirst and sick that you can’t say anything. He lays you down in his cot and then he leaves. A moment later, he’s back with a cup of water, which he helps you drink. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you off that tree sooner, darlin’,” he says when you finish drinking, feeling fractionally better. 

“Why did you come get me?” you croak. 

“Because you’re my girl, darlin’. It’s my job to protect you. I ain’t done right by you these few days, lettin’ you suffer like that. I’m sorry. You saved my life, I know that.” 

He shifts you on the bed so he’s lying beneath you and your head is on his good shoulder. You’re still feeling rather ill, but it feels nice to be with him like this. His hand settles on your back and with his heart beating in your ear, you end up drifting off for the first time since you arrived. 

In the morning, the little boy runs around the camp, saying you’re gone. Several of the others get up, getting angry because they think you’re gone. Arthur slips out from beneath you and walks out of the tent to do some damage control. You hear his muffled voice, even though you’re not really awake yet. 

A few moments later, the flaps of his tent are ripped open and Dutch stands there. Fear instantly grips you and you’re wide awake, scrambling on your cot to try and get away. He looks furious, but Arthur’s right behind him. 

“Go easy, Dutch. She saved me, remember that. And she knocked Colm out in the process.” 

Dutch glares at you. “Where’s Colm?” 

You try making yourself as small as possible in the back corner of Arthur’s cot. “I… I can’t tell you.” 

“Why not? Because you’re gonna bring him here? I told you, Arthur, she ain’t doin’ us no favors.” 

You lick your lips and look at Dutch, feeling your eyes welling up. “Because you’ll kill me as soon as I tell you.” 

This catches Dutch off guard and Arthur pushes past him, looking annoyed. He takes a seat next to you and puts his arm protectively around you. 

“No one’s gonna hurt ya, darlin’. I ain’t lettin’ ‘em. I owe you my life and… we ain’t paid you well for your efforts.” He glares up at Dutch. 

“She’s an O’Driscoll, Arthur. Y/N, when’s Colm coming for us?” 

“Dutch, Colm ain’t comin’. She knocked him out to get to me. Trust me, he’s gonna want her dead after what she done.” 

“Then why isn’t she telling us where he is? We can protect her,” Dutch says. 

This rubs you the wrong way. “I’m glad to see you protect people by tying them to trees and starving them, Dutch.” 

He stammers a bit. “I… We…. we didn’t know if you were setting up a trap for us. Arthur told us about the set up. How do I know you weren’t part of that?” 

“I wasn’t. I was told to guard him while we waited for you to come save Arthur. I had nothing to do with him getting captured. I wouldn’t ever let something like that happen to him. Like it or not, Dutch, I love Arthur.” 

Arthur squeezes you a little. It’s not the first time he’s heard you say that you love him. Dutch narrows his eyes a bit as though you’re not worthy of loving Arthur. You decide it’s time to end things, so you stand up and stare directly at Dutch. 

“Fine, Dutch. You wanna know where Colm is? He’s at Hanging Dog Ranch in Big Valley. There. Now go ahead and shoot me.” 

You hold out your arms, surrendering to him. Dutch looks at you in surprise, but Arthur stands up and places himself between the two of you. 

“Ain’t no one killin’ no one. Dutch, you got what you wanted. Now you owe Y/N. You owe her for savin’ me, and you owe her for the shit you put her through these past few days.” Arthur jabs his finger at Dutch. 

“If she’d given me what I’d asked her for, I wouldn’t have treated her like that, Arthur.” 

“Bullshit, Dutch. You didn’t give her a chance to explain herself before you tied her up. You didn’t exactly let her know you weren’t gonna kill her when she finally told you.” 

You feel like this might be the first time Arthur and Dutch have been at odds with one another. Dutch’s eyes soften and he looks at you. 

“Perhaps you’re right, Arthur, but forgive me for not trusting your girl. I ain’t until I know those bastards are dead.” 

He leaves and calls several people over to him, including Sadie. He instructs Arthur to come with him to attack Hanging Dog, and when Arthur tries to argue, Dutch fights back. 

“You ain’t stayin’ because you’re too involved with this. If this is a trap for us, she’s gonna try to run. I ain’t lettin’ you allowing her to get away. Ms. Grimshaw! Make sure Y/N stays put!” 

The older woman nods and looks pointedly at you. Without another word, most of the men leave the camp and head off. 

While they’re gone, you’re under a tight watch. Hell, you can barely move without someone demanding you explain yourself, but as you’re still not feeling well as a result from being starved and dehydrated, you spend most of your time lying in Arthur’s cot. When you’re not sleeping, you examine his things. The photos near his bed. On some ammo crates, you see the picture of you and him that you’d taken weeks ago in a small circular frame. That explains how some of these people recognized you. 

A few hours pass and Kieran comes into the tent, holding a bowl of stew. “Here. You should eat somethin’. It ain’t much, but it’s better than Colm’s slop.” 

You sit up and take the bowl, glad that the stew’s watery as you’re still wickedly thirsty. However, the stew’s a bit salty, making you cough as it burns your throat. Kieran stays with you. 

“These folks ain’t all bad. They seem that way at first. But they’re far more like a family than Colm’s bunch ever were. You’ll see that when you’re here for a while longer.” 

“If… If Dutch doesn’t kill me when they get back.” 

“He won’t. Dutch ain’t like Colm. He doesn’t dump people the moment they have nothing to give him. Especially with Arthur being so protective of you. You’ll earn a place here, I’m sure. Just give them a chance.” 

Not long after this, you end up falling asleep again, now that you finally have food in your belly. Night has fallen before you wake up, but the thing that brings you back is fingers gently rubbing across your forehead. You open your eyes and see Arthur looking down at you, smiling. His right hand is clutching his bad shoulder, but he looks okay otherwise. 

“Arthur, are you hurt?” 

“Nah. Shoulder just hurts from all the fightin’. We’re all okay though. Darlin’, we got him though. We got the son of a bitch.” 

You feel a small weight lift from your shoulders. The thought that Colm would come hunting you down has been a stress. But now it’s replaced with a new one.

“So I guess that’s it then, right?” you say. “I guess it’s time for me to leave.” 

“What you talkin’ about, sweetheart?” 

“Well, Dutch won’t want me around, will he? I’m an O’Driscoll, after all.” 

“No, darlin’, you ain’t. You’re whatever you wanna be. You could be one of us if you wanted. Would sure make me happy if you decided to be.” 

You look up at him and smile. “Really? You mean I would be safe here?” 

“Yes, sweetheart. Dutch admitted he did a bad thing, tyin’ you up like that. You saved me and you helped us get Colm. He don’t like to admit it, but he owes you a lot now. You’ll quickly earn your place here, especially when these folks start seein’ you the way I see you. They’ll learn how sweet, funny, smart you are. They’ll love you for it. But hopefully not the same way I love you.” 

He bends down and kisses you softly. As he does, you feel a sudden sense of peace. Maybe you can find a place to belong, after all these years of wandering, of fighting. Of course, you’ll know that gang life comes with plenty of struggles and the fighting won’t end, but it will be a lot easy to endure with the man you love at your side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love talking to my readers! Let me know what you think (even if you didn't like it)


	95. Pining from a distance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hi! I love your works and I was wondering if you could write something about a new "lost soul" saved by the gang and trying hard to fit in. A reserved female reader who secretly develops feelings for Arthur, knowing well he has no interest in getting involved with anybody. A good ol' heart-wrenching, I-will-pine-from-a-distance-and-suffer-in-silence kind of unrequited love. Ending is up to you (but maybe it's a happy one)

You look around nervously, not sure you’re entirely in the right place. Everything’s changed so quickly, it’s hard to process. Sure, you’ve heard endless tales of gangs and outlaws, living wild and free, but you never knew the gritty details about any of it. Now here you are, living it. 

You ended up here with the Van der Linde gang because your life has a funny habit of putting you in the wrong place at the wrong time. You’d been on the train two days ago, and it got robbed by a gang. As they were busy killing the engineer and the conductor and going through everyone’s possessions, a man you’ve come to know to be named as Arthur rode by and killed the bastards. You sank to your knees in fright, afraid you’d be killed too. 

As you sobbed into the grass, your hero dismounted and comforted you. When you explained that you had no home, nowhere to go and nothing to return to, Arthur offered you to come with him. You accepted, of course, you just found yourself incapable of saying no. He put you on the back of his horse and rode down south of Blackwater and into a small hideout called Thieves Landing. 

You’ve never been here before, your parents told you as a child to avoid the place as though it had the plague. Everyone south of the Upper Montana knew it was where criminals hid and because of its layout, it was hard for the law to take. 

It was here that Arthur told you his gang was hiding out in and that you were welcome to stay until you got your life sorted. An older woman named Grimshaw immediately jumped on you and started barking orders, despite you being completely dumbfounded and confused. 

It’s been two days since you were brought in, but you’re not entirely convinced you’re fitting in all that well. The gang’s big with at least twenty members. All of them, even the women, have a track record. The only one who’s as innocent is a child named Jack, but the rest have done something to earn them at least a few days in jail, but most have earned even the noose should they ever get caught. 

It’s not a comforting idea exactly, but already you can see how tight-knit they all are. There’s a sense of family here, the likes of which you’ve never had the fortune of experiencing. While in the day, Grimshaw barks and even nips, at night she turns pleasant, making sure everyone gets a plate to eat and singing songs around the campfires. 

She’s not the only one to let down their hair at night. Most of everyone does, telling stories about things that have happened or singing songs. You especially liked it last night when a young man named Javier sat down and played his guitar, singing in Spanish. Being from down south yourself, you were used to hearing his native tongue though you understood none of the words. It was still pleasant to hear. 

“So, how’s you adjustin’?” asks the young girl next to you as you scrub at a shirt in the wash bin with a rather stubborn spot that doesn’t want to come out. She’s got brown hair and she’s wearing a faded purple dress with a rather pretty necklace. 

“I… I think I’m okay. But… Mary-Beth, isn’t it?” you say. She nods. “Can I be honest with you?” She nods again. “I really don’t fit in here. Not because you’re criminals and I’m not, it’s just… I have nothing to offer anyone. I don’t know how to steal, shoot a gun. Hell, I can barely ride a horse.” 

“And that’s okay,” Mary-Beth says with a small smile. “You can learn how to do those things. I’m more than happy helpin’ ya, and I bet the other gals will too.” 

“Not only that, but we can always use another girl,” Grimshaw snarls, stomping over to you both. “Now get to work, both of ya!” She marches away to go bully Tilly. 

“Don’t worry about Ms. Grimshaw,” Mary-Beth says when the woman’s out of earshot. “She likes to act tough, and sometimes she can be a little too forceful, but she does care.”

“That’s to be debated,” says Karen, walking over with a repeater in her hand. She must have just finished with guard duty. “That ol’ bat wouldn’t give a damn if we was all on fire, long as we’re workin’.” 

Mary-Beth gives a little giggle, but Karen walks off to go and talk with a red-haired man. Because Thieves Landing is so large, you’re still learning the names of the members of the gang. You’ve kept your ears open though, wanting to learn about these people, see how the other side of society works. 

Growing up, you never had many friends, always being very shy. At school, you were bullied a lot for reasons you couldn’t understand. Your parents tried to help you but there was little they could do aside from pulling you out of the school and teaching you themselves. They didn’t know much about math or science though, so they taught you what they knew: how to ranch and garden. 

When you were about ten, your father got sick and died. A few weeks later, your mother, who had contracted his illness, died too. You ended up at your uncle’s house, but he was such an abusive, angry drunk you just left one day when you were 15. You’ve been on your own since, jumping from one job to the next. You were between them when you were on that train a couple days back, when Arthur found you. 

As you sit and work, you smile as you think of your father. He used to tell you many stories, but your favorites were those about gunslingers and outlaws. Something about them seemed romantic and fantastical, the way they represented the idea of freedom, of never being tied down. You never thought you would be incorporated into a gang of them as an adult. 

A few hours later and you hear the somewhat familiar voice of the camp cook Pearson shouting that dinner’s ready. You sigh in relief, knowing that dinner signals the end of the day’s work and you can relax. The past two nights you’ve spent alone on your bedroll, being too shy to mingle, but as you stoop to collect your stew, you wonder if you can muster the courage to change that. 

Several of the gang has gathered around a large campfire to talk over dinner. There’s an empty seat, but it’s right next to Arthur Morgan. Sure, he’s the man who brought you here, but you feel especially unimportant next to him. He’s a big guy, much taller than yourself, broad, handsome. The girls told you he’s got a very rough exterior but secretly harbors a heart of gold. However, it wasn’t until you found out he holds some of the greatest weight in camp that made you shy around him. 

A hand pats you on the back, making you jump a little. Turning, you see Grimshaw. 

“Go on, have a seat, dear. You’ve earned it.” 

Unable to say no to her, you walk over and take a hesitant seat next to Arthur, hunching down a little. He doesn’t seem to notice as he’s listening to a man named Hosea tell a story about how he’d nearly been busted for robbing a house during a wake but how he’d managed to act his way out of being caught. It’s a rather funny story and as the others laugh appreciatively, you feel yourself relaxing. That is until Hosea’s story ends and he asks you a pointed question. 

“How are you settling in, miss?” 

You hate being brought out in the spotlight like this and it doesn’t help that Arthur, sitting so close, turns to look at you, his expression neutral. 

“Oh, I’m… I’m doing okay, thank you. Mary-Beth said she can teach me how to rob people, so I’m hoping I won’t be so useless to you anymore soon.” 

“No one’s complaining about you being useless,” says a man named John, sharpening his knife on a whetstone. “When you start bein’ as useless as Uncle, then we’ll have a problem.” 

“Hey, I work!” complains the man in question. 

“Really? When was the last time you lifted a finger ‘round here, ol’ man?” Arthur challenges. The group happily begins to bicker, but you’re grateful as it’s pulled their attention off of you. 

As the days pass, you begin to hear people in the gang beginning to talk about a big score. A member named Micah came in to bring the idea of a big river boat to the gang’s leader Dutch. From what you can make of Dutch, he’s a clever, calculating man who cares deeply for his family. Mary-Beth and Tilly told you how he and Hosea took both Arthur and John in as their sons despite not being much older themselves. They formed this gang together and it’s stayed strong. 

Ever since Micah brought in the potential job, the gang’s been humming with excitement. It seems to be a very big score and will need a lot of help for it to work. You’d like to volunteer, to contribute something, but you know you’re utterly useless right now. Mary-Beth’s only begun to explain the basics of robbing to you. However, this job sounds like it’s to come with a guaranteed gunfight. 

The day for the heist arrives and pretty much every man in the gang goes to do it. A few hours later, they return to Thieves Landing bearing bad news. Somehow the law knew the boat was going to be hit and they met the gang with fierce opposition. Poor Jenny, whom you’d just started to get to know, was shot and so was Davey and John. Dutch and Hosea start shouting for everyone to get packed up as the Pinkertons are in pursuit. 

Days go by and Thieves Landing is far behind you and the others. The gang has moved north, still trying to shake the Pinkertons off. Jenny passed away two days ago, but no one has been able to bury her as a massive snowstorm moved in shortly after she passed. 

Moral is at an all-time low, yours included. You wouldn’t dream of leaving though, these people have become your close friends and even border on something like a family. Grimshaw tries to encourage everyone to stay positive, but it’s clear she doesn’t feel it much either. 

Night falls once again as the wagon train goes along a narrow pass, the horses trudging through the thick snow. The weather has stayed horrible for days, dumping the white powder in great heaps. The Pinkertons haven’t been seen in the past two days. Perhaps this means the gang can finally find somewhere to hide. Dutch sent Arthur out a few hours ago to scout, along with John and Micah. 

Arthur returns just as Abigail makes note that Davey is nearly dead. He reports that he found a place to shelter and guides the train there. It’s a small town named Colter according to a small sign by the main trail. The gang moves into the largest building but Abigail says Davey’s passed. Soon after, Dutch and Arthur go out to find what else might be around and they end up bringing back a heartbroken woman named Sadie. 

Two days go by and the weather’s hardly let up. You stand outside in the freezing, snowy morning. You just need a break from the others for a while. Even though you enjoy most of them, being cooped up in such tight quarters for so long has worn you out. However, you’re already shivering from the cold under all your layers. 

“You doin’ okay? Ya look half frozen,” a voice says from behind. You turn and see Arthur, wrapped up in his big blue coat, his face hidden beneath his hat. 

“Yeah. Yeah, just need a break. Been a tough few days.” 

“It sure has.” Suddenly a fierce blast of wind whistles down the path and Arthur wraps an arm around you as though to protect you from it. As you lack a hat and your head’s covered only by a thin blanket, you bury your head into his chest. He lets you though, but as soon as the wind dies a little you pull away from him, your face red. You blame it on the cold wind. 

However, something changes with your view of Arthur. Sure, you’ve seen him comforting most people in the gang and he’s known for being caring and gentle, interested in all movements in the gang. But you were never a receiver of that care until now. You try denying your feelings, saying you’ve just been isolated for too long. 

Nearly a week goes by and you’ve tried keeping distance between yourself and Arthur, believing your feelings will cool down with the space. The weather finally breaks and Hosea suggests camping in a new place he knows in the Heartlands. The gang is moved into action finally and the wagon train moves down to it. 

It’s a great relief to finally be surrounded by trees and green rather than white and feel the warm sun instead of cold wind. The new camp spot, Horseshoe Overlook, is beautiful. Immediately you’re set to work by Grimshaw, but when night falls, you’re allowed to rest. 

You stand on the edge of camp near the cliff, overlooking the river and the canyon. This place is beautiful. You’ve rarely seen this much moving water, being from the desert. Arthur walks over with two bowls of stew. 

“Here, noticed you ain’t eaten yet.” He hands you one and you thank him. 

The two of you stand together, eating without speaking for a few moments. 

“So, now you been with us a while and seen us at our best and worst,” Arthur says, “what you thinkin’ of doing?” 

“How do you mean?” 

“I mean what you plan on doin’? You gonna stay or you thinkin’ of movin’ on? No one would blame you if you decided to leave.” 

“Do you… want me to leave?” you say with a pang. 

“No. No, far from it. I think you could easily find a place among us. Seems like you already have too. Pretty much everyone here likes ya.” 

You blush a little and look away. “I think I wanna stay. I like it here.” 

He smiles a little, his blue eyes shining. You feel a surge of desire to hug him, your heart beating a bit faster. “Well, good. Like I said, think you’ll fit in easy.” 

He takes your empty plate and heads off, leaving you alone. You turn and watch him, wanting nothing more than to be with him. Part of you wishes he’d come back to you, but he heads off to sit next to John and Hosea at the campfire. You turn back to watch the sunset, trying to push him out of your mind. It won’t do you any favors.

The next morning, you’re sitting with the other girls doing chores. Mary-Beth turns to you. “So, saw you blushing when Arthur said good mornin’ to you.” She gives you a sly look. 

“I… I thought I had to sneeze right when he spoke to me,” you lie. 

“It’s okay if you like him,” she says consolingly. “To be honest, I think we all developed a little thing for him in the beginning. I did anyways.” 

“I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t,” Tilly says. “But, do yourself a favor, Y/N. Move on from him. I ain’t sayin’ that out of selfishness or cruelty, but Arthur’s unavailable.” 

“I didn’t know he had someone,” you say sadly. 

“Well, he doesn’t anymore, but he can’t seem to move on from her,” Mary-Beth explains. 

As if on queue, Arthur walks out of his tent, reading a letter. Susan walks up to him and they exchange words. You hear the name Mary and Susan tells him she never liked her. He says something to her and then heads out. 

“And there he goes, off to see her,” Karen says sourly. “She barely has to say his name and he’ll move mountains to see her.” 

Your heart sinks even further. You’d just begun to accept the fact that you have some strong feelings for Arthur, but this is a harsh blow. If he’s still attached to this woman, it means he’s definitely not interested in you. It’d be best if you give him up. 

Night comes and Arthur’s returned. Once again, he brings you a plate of food as you stand near the cliff. A long silence passes between the two of you, your mind heavy. 

“You okay? Awful quiet,” he says.   
“I’m doin’ just fine, Arthur, thank you though,” you say somewhat coldly. You mentally make a note to be a little nicer. It’s not his fault you’ve got a crush on him. 

“You sure? If ya need to talk, I’m always willin’ to listen. I want ya to be happy.” 

God, why does he have to be so sweet yet so unavailable? It’s incredibly frustrating. You turn to him. 

“Well, maybe you can help. Have you ever had real strong feelings for someone? Someone you couldn’t be with because you know they’d never want to be with you, and because they’re hung up on someone else?”

He gives you a curious look. “Who you talkin’ about?” His face falls a bit. “It’s John, ain’t it? You got a thing for him, don’t ya?”

Is that envy in his eyes? “J-John? No, Arthur, I don’t have a thing for John. Sure he’s nice and funny, but he’s not my type. Plus I think Abigail would murder anyone who tried anything with him.” 

His face lightens up a bit. “I think you’re right there. Well, I don’t know much about relationships. Pretty useless, in fact.” 

You smile up at him. “Well, thought I’d ask.” 

“Who is this person?” he asks. “Anyone I know?” 

“Definitely. He’s… someone in this gang, but like I said, he’s emotionally unavailable. Besides, I wouldn’t stand a chance with him.” 

“Ah, don’t sell yourself short.” He sighs a little. “Well, maybe you just need to walk up to this feller, tell him exactly how you feel.” 

“Okay. Arthur, I like you.” 

“Exactly. Just like that.” He smiles. “See? It ain’t so hard.” 

“No, Arthur, you’re not listening to me,” you say, your face beat red. “I said I like you.” 

He blinks and straightens up a bit. He looks shocked. Or maybe that’s anger. Fear stings your stomach and you take a step back. 

“I… I’m sorry. I was… just practicing.” You turn to walk away, deciding never to be alone with Arthur again. You can’t blame him for being angry either. You wouldn’t like you if you were him. 

“Y/N, wait.” His hand’s on your shoulders. “Did you mean it?” 

You look down at your feet. “I’m sorry, Arthur. I didn’t choose to like you, and I’m sorry for it. Not because you’re not a good man,” you say hastily at the look on his face. “What I meant is I’m sorry for… me.” 

His eyes soften considerably. “Please don’t apologize. Especially for you bein’ yourself. Can I tell you a secret?” He leans in a little and whispers, “I’ve liked ya since that day up in Colter.” 

You blush even deeper. “Me too.” 

His arms suddenly slide around you, hot and gentle. Your hands are on his shoulders and he leans down, placing his lips on yours. Something flutters in your chest. It’s like a bird is trapped inside, fighting to get out. They’re slightly chapped, but the moment his lips touch yours, the bird settles and gives a satisfied purr. You lean into the kiss, sighing a little. 

“Bout time you two finally did somethin’,” Hosea says, walking past. He gives you both a sly smile. “Dutch and I been gettin’ tired of seeing you two gettin’ all dovey eyed when the other wasn’t looking.” 

You laugh and put your forehead onto Arthur’s chest, trying to hide your face as Arthur laughs. 

“Sorry, Hosea.” 

“Nah, you two kids have fun.” He walks off, chuckling a bit. Arthur looks down at you and smiles. 

“You wanna go somewhere a little more private? Try that kiss where we won’t be spied on?” 

You bite your lip and smile, nodding. Arthur takes your hand and leads you off into the trees. You pin him to a tree and kiss him hard, pressing your body on his. His arms slide up your back and wind into your hair. As the kiss deepens, you wonder where else this night will go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love talking to readers! Let me know your thoughts!


	96. Christmas for Outlaws

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hi! I wanted to request something where the gang enjoys a thanksgiving or Christmas together?? :-)

  * Holidays are a rare thing for the gang to enjoy because the lifestyles they live prevent them from doing so. Most of them don’t get much more than a “Happy (whichever holiday). Same goes for birthdays. 
  * However, Dutch and Hosea feel that Christmas is an important holiday that needs celebrating. Not because of the religious factors, but because it’s a holiday about love and unity. The gang needs to be reminded that they all care about one another sometimes. 
  * Most of the planning goes to Hosea, and he often has to remind Dutch to help out. He doesn’t mind though because when Dutch does get down to plan, he puts his whole heart into it. 
  * No matter where the gang is located, everyone pitches in to try and decorate camp without drawing too much attention. 
  * Arthur and Charles cover the hunting bit, gathering turkeys or geese for Pearson to cook. 
  * Although Pearson’s knowledge of different kinds of food are pretty limited, he made sure years ago to learn a good recipe for roasting birds on an open fire. Everyone appreciated it immensely. 
  * However, it wouldn’t be Christmas if Lenny and Sean didn’t pull a trick on Pearson. One year Pearson was making stuffing. He turned around for two seconds and his bread was replaced with corn meal. He didn’t realize it until half the bird was stuffed and then he had to pull it all out. He shouted himself hoarse at Lenny and Sean, but they were too busy laughing to care. 
  * Abigail will usually take Jack and a disgruntled John to town to buy some sweets, and if there’s enough money, maybe even some baked goods. There was one memorable year where John snuck away from them to play poker. He won a decent hand and used it to buy a double layered cake. An extremely rare treat. 
  * Tilly surprised everyone her first Christmas with the gang by baking a pie in Pearson’s dutch oven. It was so good she’s required to make them every year. Most of the gang agrees it’s not Christmas without Tilly’s pies. 
  * Karen and Uncle oversee the liquor supplies for Christmas Eve and Day. Uncle always pulls his usual trick of going into town, saying he’s going to buy more booze, but then he’s always found passed out in the saloon. Usually by Arthur and John who always give him an earful and sometimes a good kick. 
  * Grimshaw is a near terror the week leading up to Christmas. She flaps around camp and shrieks even more at the girls to get the place spick and span. By the time Christmas Eve comes, just about everyone, including the men, are about ready to shoot her. She makes it up by giving out some of the best gifts. 
  * Speaking of gifts, everyone’s very limited on what they can give simply because of money and availability. A rule was decided years ago when the gang started to get big that no one would give a gift for everyone. Instead, drawings were done and each person was assigned to give a gift for one person. It was Arthur who gave Mary-Beth her first real journal to write in. 
  * Grimshaw however is the only person who gives a gift to everyone. Dutch will usually give her a portion of the camp’s funds to go (usually after she argues with him about it) and then she goes into town with Tilly to buy everything. 
  * As far as decorations go, there’s usually a wreath hung up on Pearson’s wagon and mistletoe hung up somewhere. Lenny and Karen usually avoid that spot like the plague while Uncle and sometimes even Swanson will hang around it. Molly usually finds herself beneath it, hoping for Dutch to meet her under it. He usually does. 
  * No one really thinks about getting a tree as they’re too much hassle, but a few days before Christmas, one will just appear sometime in the night when everyone’s asleep. It was a real mystery the first year it happened until on Christmas Day, Trelawney strolled in, looking his finest. He made the slightest comment about the tree, trying to be sly, but everyone knew he’d done it. He’s done the same thing every year and everyone lets him think he’s being sneaky. 
  * When Christmas Eve comes, Pearson will lay out a huge dinner featuring the turkeys and geese. He also makes a mountain of mashed potatoes. 
  * Candles are laid out around camp and lit, which brings a lovely light to camp. 
  * When the food’s gone and everyone’s stuffed with second helpings of Tilly’s pie, the entire gang gathers around the campfire and sings songs and shares stories. 
  * Javier always tells the same story of Christmas in Mexico. How his sister would make small stuffed toys for children throughout the entire year and then he would go with her every Christmas Eve and give them to the children of his village. 
  * Charles will talk about his father, though very briefly. Christmas was not a big thing in his mother’s tribe as they didn’t celebrate it, but his father would always take him out of the tribe for a few hours every Christmas Eve and they’d watch the stars on clear nights or they’d go and make snow figures. 
  * Before bed, Dutch will usually ask Reverend Swanson to read from his bible about Christmas. However, Swanson is usually too drunk or will come up with an excuse not to do so. Arthur and Hosea are the only ones who know that his bible is fake, that it really hides his supplies of morphine. That doesn’t stop Swanson from reciting a scruffy rendition of the story, even though he sometimes gets it wrong. No one minds though. 
  * On Christmas Day, everyone wakes up with Grimshaw’s gift nearby. She likes to surprise them with the gifts. Most of the time, the gifts are things they need but they’re nicer quality, such as new clothes. That was how Arthur got his blue striped shirt. It was a gift from Grimshaw after his father’s shirt finally fell apart. He liked the blue one much better, mostly because it never belonged to his father. 
  * On the year when Abigail was pregnant with Jack, John received a miniature cowboy figure that looked surprisingly like him. He got so annoying with it that it disappeared. No one could confirm it, but it was suspected Abigail hid it. 
  * Pearson and Mary-Beth work together and make a big breakfast in his cast-iron pot, putting scrambled eggs, boiled potatoes, green onions, sliced peppers and other ingredients into a big cake-like structure. Strauss got haughty about it his first year and called it the mountain-man breakfast. The name stuck much to his dislike. 
  * After breakfast, the gang gathers around the tables and exchanges gifts. Sean will make fun of everyone’s gift, but he’s the most excited to receive his own. 
  * Lenny and Hosea almost always receive a book. One year, Dutch was giving to Lenny and he gave him an Evelyn Miller book. Lenny never read it nor did he want to. 
  * Micah’s the only one who never joins in the festivities, but Arthur and John got him for it. John was assigned to gift him, so he and Arthur went to the market and found a large fruit stand, which was selling pumpkins left over from the season’s harvest. They found the oldest one (this was a few weeks before Christmas) and they left it out in the sun for days on end until it was beginning to rot. They punctured a small hole in it so that bugs could crawl into it. 
  * When Micah opened his box with the rotting pumpkin, everyone laughed except for him and Dutch. He tried lifting it from the box but the stem ripped the top part of the pumpkin off, revealing the insects inside it. He spent the remainder of the day pouting on the outskirts of camp. 
  * By nightfall, most of everyone is drunk and singing loudly. Karen is usually pulled away by Sean, but Abigail and John almost always get into an argument. Usually in regards to John being a less-than-satisfactory father to Jack. 
  * Jack is by far the sweetest member. Days before Christmas, he begs Abigail to go into town and they buy small bundles of flowers (or they go pick them themselves depending where the gang is located at the time). Jack makes a flower crown for everyone. 
  * Bill says he hates the crowns, but he secretly loves them. He wraps it around his hat, which hides his hair that he’s slicked down with hair pomade. He tries to look a little nicer every Christmas but usually gets made fun of for it by John and Arthur. 
  * Dutch will always end the celebrating by telling everyone how much they matter to the gang, how life could be a lot worse without their efforts. 
  * Everyone goes to bed feeling good about themselves and their situations. 
  * Arthur will usually stay up later than anyone else, watching the stars if they’re not hidden behind clouds. He feels a certain fondness towards everyone (except Micah) on these nights, but often wishes he had someone special to share them with. 



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have thoughts about this? Let me know!


	97. The Art of Flirting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Thank u for feeding us thus far 🙏 I have an offering (prompt) for you: Arthur trying to act all suave around oblivious reader but failing (think: trying to lean against a post but missing and just falling over instead) and she always rushes over to see if he's alright

You’re leaning against the tree at Clemens Point, watching as a troop of geese flies overhead. It’s nearly dusk and all the chores are done, meaning you have the rest of the night off. Little do you know that near the horses, Arthur’s leaning against another tree, smoking a cigarette. He’s been watching you for a little while. 

Arthur wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he’s had a crush on you for a while. Of course, everyone knows that he does. He isn’t exactly subtle, especially when he’s trying to be sneaky with his flirting. He’s done that with you too, but he doubts that you caught on, or that you wanted to reciprocate. 

Lenny walks up to him. “Hey, Arthur.” 

“Hey kid,” he says, throwing his cigarette down. Lenny looks to where Arthur’s eyes are. 

“Oh, so that’s what you’re doin’ over here. Thinkin’ of a new way to try and show her you’re sweet on her?” 

“I ain’t sweet on her.” 

“Right,” Lenny chuckles as he takes a horse treat out of his pocket. 

“I ain’t!” Arthur’s starting to feel irritated, which is unusual for him to do with Lenny. 

“Y’know,” Lenny says, feeding his horse. “I’m still real sad about Jenny. She was a cute gal. Wish I’d asked her out to dinner or somethin’ before that mess at Blackwater.” 

“What you talkin’ about, son?” Arthur looks at him, confused.

“I mean you should take your chances with her now. We don’t know what’s comin’, Arthur.” 

Arthur sighs and looks back at you, knowing Lenny’s right. He doesn’t want to stay in this place of wondering what could be. After giving a curt nod to Lenny, he walks over to where you are, trying to act like he’s not nervous. 

“Hey there,” he says just loudly enough for you to hear. You turn and give him a smile that makes his heart jump. 

“Hi Arthur. How are you?” 

“Oh doin’ just fine. Hey, listen,” he plants his back to the tree and crosses his arms. “I uh, was wonderin’. You… you ever…” He wants so badly to ask you out on a date, but he finds his courage wavering. It doesn’t help that your beautiful eyes are on him. “You ever try the catfish at the saloon in Rhodes?” 

He feels like a complete moron. He’s talking about fucking catfish, he might as well ask your thoughts on the weather! Luckily for him, you smile and shake your head. 

“No. Grimshaw’s been breathing down my neck so much, I’ve hardly had a chance to leave camp since we showed up.” 

“Well, why don’t we fix that? Listen, I know Pearson needs some supplies from town. Why don’t we go get a bite to eat and go to the store?” 

You grin and agree, feeling excited. Arthur Morgan, one of the best men you know, is asking you to accompany him. As he wanders over to Pearson’s wagon with you in tow, you have to remind yourself to stay calm, that this isn't a date. Why he approached you to go is a mystery, but you’re not about to ask questions. 

Arthur tells you to get Pearson’s list while he gets the horses ready on the wagon, so you head over to the cook and tell him where you’re going. Pearson doesn’t even have a list ready yet, which is weird. Arthur made it sound like Pearson was prepared for someone to do a run. Whatever. Sometimes Pearson can be quite scatterbrained. He pulls out a strip of paper and checks his wagon, looking at provision levels. After a few moments, he finally gives you a list. It isn’t very big. 

You shrug your shoulders and stuff it into your pocket, going over to the wagon where Arthur’s waiting. He decided, while you were with Pearson, he’d strike a pose that maybe you’d find sexy. Course he thinks he’s the furthest thing from sexy, but he’s bound to try. He’s got one hand on his hip, sticking it out to the side a bit and placing his other hand on the wagon. When he sees you walking over, he tries to put on a seductive smile. 

Unfortunately for him, right when your eyes land on him, the horses start to move for whatever reason. They only take a few steps, but it’s enough movement on the wagon and Arthur slips. He smacks his face on the wagon, but straightens up quickly, adjusting his hat. 

“Oh my God, Arthur, you okay?” You say. At least you’re not laughing. 

“Yeah, fine.” He clears his throat, feeling his face burn. “Uh, shall we go then?” 

He offers a hand and helps you up onto the wagon, climbing into the seat next to yours. After he’s flicked the reins to get the wagon moving, you feel tempted to grab his hand once again, but you don’t, once again reminding yourself this isn’t a date. 

Once in town, Arthur parks the wagon outside the store. He tells you to get the shopkeeper going on preparing your list and putting it into the wagon while he goes and secures a table and two dishes. 

You nod and head inside. After handing the shopkeeper your list, you go to the saloon and find Arthur just sitting down at a table, setting down two plates of catfish. You smile at him and take your seat. 

Over dinner, light talk is traded between the two of you. Arthur is different when he’s alone with you. Sure, he’s still the gruff outlaw you’ve come to admire, but he seems less blocked off than he does around the others. Arthur’s always been a private man, but he’s more willing to talk about more personal things with no one else around. 

Conversation comes so easily between you and Arthur that it’s over an hour since you sat down. It’s only when the waiter comes and gives Arthur his third beer that you suddenly remember the wagon with Pearson’s things in it. You tell Arthur that you should return to camp and he hurriedly agrees. 

Night has fallen properly at this point, but as you walk, Arthur’s hand bumps hard into yours. He clearly didn’t mean it as he quickly apologizes. 

“Just my dumb arms,” he says roughly, a slight pink to his cheeks again. 

You smile and respond by taking his hand in yours, forgetting the fact that this isn’t a date. “Here. Now you won’t have to worry about your dumb arms.” 

He chuckles and his hand relaxes in yours. When the two of you are settled back on the wagon, he takes your hand again. The entire ride home, he doesn’t let you go. 

Too soon the turn off to go into camp comes up and Arthur’s turning the wagon down the trail. You’re not ready to be in the company of others just yet. It seems Arthur feels the same as he stops the wagon suddenly. 

“Y/N, I… I wanted to ask ya somethin’. I know it’s kind of rushed and… hell, I don’t know if you even like me that way, but… I don’t know how many more tomorrows we have.” He squeezes your hand and looks down. His mouth opens and then closes before opening once again. He seems to be struggling to get words out. 

Taking pity, you slide your free hand over his cheek. Before you can stop yourself, you lean in and kiss him. His mouth is still slightly open and he doesn’t make a sound. After a second, you pull away. 

“Is that what you wanted to ask me, Arthur?” 

He smiles. “Somethin’ like that.” He leans in and kisses you yet again, but this time the kiss is deeper and more passionate. It’s perfect. 

*************************

A week has gone by and everyone knows about you and Arthur, despite you both trying to be quiet about it. Neither of you were denying being together, but you weren’t going around bragging about it either. However, word seemed to travel fast once it got out. 

It’s midday and it is miserably hot. The air is thick as soup, making things even worse. You haven’t felt properly dry in days. Arthur’s out fishing on the lake with Hosea, trying to catch tonight’s dinner. You’d tried to go with them but Grimshaw got all hot and bothered. For some reason, she felt it necessary for you to stay and work on the never-ending pile of laundry with the others. 

You and the others sit around, talking as you work. Karen and Tilly have been teasing you constantly about finally dating Arthur and that they won’t have to endure the sappy looks you throw his way when he’s not looking. 

“I think it’s cute,” Mary-Beth says. “He definitely seems happier since.” 

“How so?” you ask. 

“Well, I ain’t never seen our Arthur Morgan skip before,” Karen chuckles. 

“Seriously? He was skipping?” you say skeptically. 

“No, Karen’s joking. Though he definitely has more of a hop to his walk sometimes,” Tilly replies. “However, he’s been whistling a lot more. Now I know Arthur well enough to know that he only whistles when he’s real happy. He ain’t done that since you two got together.” 

You blush and smile, looking down at your hands. You had no idea you had that kind of effect on him. 

“Oh here he comes now!” Mary-Beth says, looking in the direction of the lake. “You should go say hi to him.” 

Grinning, you hop up and run over to the edge of the lake, waving to Arthur. As he’s busy rowing, he doesn’t return the gesture since he can’t see you. Hosea waves though and he bumps Arthur’s back. Perhaps he’s telling him you’re here waiting because Arthur twists his head around and grins broadly when he sees you. 

Little do you know how much you still get his heart pumping when you’re around. The novelty of being with you is still new enough that he still feels the need to show off how tough and strong he is sometimes. He feels the urge now, so when the water’s shallow enough to only go up to his mid-calf, he hops out to haul the boat up the shore. 

“Arthur, what the hell are you doing?” Hosea asks. 

“Nevermind, Hosea.” Arthur grins at you and continues pulling the boat. It works on impressing you, but he didn’t expect you to rush over to him and leap into his arms. His foot slips on a muddy rock and he falls backwards, the two of you plunging into the water. You let out a small shriek of fright as Arthur coughs a bit. 

You don’t see it, but Hosea rolls his eyes and gets out, hauling the boat all the way onto the shore and leaving you two alone to stagger back up onto your feet. You and Arthur take one look at each other, soaked to the skin, and break out in laughter. 

“Sorry, Arthur,” you say, gathering your hair up to wring it out.

“‘I’s nothin’, sweetheart.” He picks his hat out of the water and puts it back on before grabbing your hand and heading over to his wagon to change. 

“Guess I should go get changed,” you say, gesturing to your bedroll near Tilly’s. Arthur suddenly grabs your hand and pulls you right up against him. 

“Maybe later. You know, I have a different idea on what we could do while our clothes dry.” He kisses you hard, not caring that the others might be looking, and you suddenly know what he’s talking about. When he pulls away, you nod. Arthur grins and pulls you into his tent where he pulls the flaps shut. 

Your heart is pounding when he turns back to you, and it doesn’t stop anytime soon. Arthur makes love to you in a way that you’ve never experienced before. He brings you pleasure you’ve never experienced with a man before, and all you can think while he loves on you is that you will spend the rest of your life with him.


	98. Arthur Protects His Daughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Something bad happens to Arthur's daughter and he gets overprotective and snaps™.

  * Arthur is the ultimate definition of protective. He’d go to war if you were in trouble. 
  * When he finds out his young daughter is in danger, no one dares stand in his way. Even Micah takes a step back and shuts his mouth. 
  * Your daughter is young, not even as old as Jack yet. She’d been out playing by the river with you. You’d been sitting at the base of a tree, reading a book and keeping an eye on her. 
  * You’d looked down for one minute and when you’d glanced up to see where she was, she was gone. You immediately hopped up and searched for her, calling her name, but nothing. It was like she was never there.
  * Arthur came up to check on you and your daughter after his trip of hunting. When you saw him, you immediately started crying, feeling scared. 
  * Arthur searches, but nothing. But he does find the fresh dung of a horse. Your horse hasn’t been over here the entire time since you’ve come down from Horseshoe Overlook. It seems that someone may have taken her. 
  * You’ve seen Arthur in all scales of rage and fear, but he’s never been more terrifying than he was then. You were suddenly afraid he might pull his gun out and start yelling at you, he looked beyond enraged. 
  * Instead, he suddenly clutched you, holding on so tight you thought he might crush you. 
  * “We’re gonna find her,” he growled, “and when I get hold of those bastards who took her, I’m gonna skin them.” 
  * Arthur sent you back up to camp to get the others to come help search while he started to track them. The others immediately jumped on board to help, even Micah. 
  * It’s been two days since you last saw your daughter and neither you or Arthur has gotten a moment of sleep. Arthur tried to get you to sleep, but he understood when you said you were too worried to. 
  * He’s been running since day 1, constantly tracking. Charles’s been helping him the most. Sometimes Micah even joins in the tracking and he’s wise to keep his mouth shut. It would take very little from him for Arthur to blow his brains out in his state. 
  * Finally signs of her whereabouts have been picked up in Rhodes. Dutch, Hosea and John scout the town, but it’s you who sees her. 
  * She’s being held in the basement of the gunsmith’s, chained to a bed. You immediately screech her name and begin sobbing, sticking your hands through the bars, trying to get to her. 
  * Arthur immediately runs into the gunsmith’s.
  * “What the hell you doin’ to my daughter?!” he roars as you stumble in. 
  * “Your daughter?” the gunsmith cowers, trembling. “Sir, the only child in this building is my own. She’s in the… in the basement. She ain’t been feelin’ too well and-”
  * Arthur cuts him off by whipping his gun out, pulling the hammer, and pointing it at him. 
  * “I’m gonna give you to the count of 3 to take me down to my daughter.” 
  * The gunsmith does the right thing and immediately opens the cellar door. You dash down the stairs, pushing everyone (even Arthur) out of the way. The second you see her, you scoop your daughter into your arms, sobbing. 
  * She’s bawling, but you can’t take her away from the bed as she’s chained to it. 
  * Arthur pushes the man into the room by gunpoint. “What the hell you do to my daughter, you son of a bitch?” 
  * “I… I’m sorry!” the man buckles and falls to the floor. “She… she looks like my little girl. She was helpin’ her ma brush our horse and… a hunter fired a gun not too far off. The horse spooked and it kicked my little girl in the head. I just… I can’t bear it anymore! Your little girl… my little girl!” He begins to cry. 
  * Arthur lowers his gun, though he looks beyond furious. He suddenly slams the gun down on the man’s head, knocking him out.
  * “Arthur…” you gasp, clutching your girl. “Arthur, I can’t get it off.” 
  * “Cover her ears, darlin’,” Arthur says softly. You do and he shoots the chain, releasing her. 
  * “Papa!” your daughter howls. When you stand up, you hand her over to Arthur. He holds her tight, trying to calm her down and patting her back. 
  * Tears in his own eyes, he holds an arm out to you and the three of you hug one another. 
  * Arthur feels an overwhelming sense of relief. His family’s safe. He’s got his little girl in one arm and you in the other. All he wants is to keep you and your daughter safe. 
  * You feel incredibly grateful to Arthur. You’ve always known he would create mountains for your daughter if she asked him to, and he would do absolutely anything to protect her. He did that these past two days. 
  * For the remainder of the night, Arthur hardly lets go of her. He doesn’t even let Hosea or Abigail take her from him. He’s still too protective. 
  * She ends up falling asleep in his arms, but he loves it. You have to talk him into putting her in her own bed, saying he needs to get some sleep. 
  * “Fine,” he says, but he moves her bed right next to your cot so he can stay close to her. 
  * When the two of you finally lay down, he pulls you onto him and holds you to his chest. “We got her, sweetheart. Our girl’s safe.” 
  * “You did good, honey.” 
  * As you fall asleep, you smile at the thought that you couldn’t ask for a better father for your child. 



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always welcome!


	99. Flex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: i NEED to know how Arthur would react to f!reader feeling up his biceps😍😂

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: very light smut

You lower your binoculars, not having seen anything that caught your eye, then you look over at Arthur. He’s astride his horse, doing the same thing as you, standing on a cliff not too far away. You see him lowering his tiny binoculars, but he doesn’t look your way. 

The two of you came out hunting not too far from Horseshoe Overlook, your new camp. It’s nice to be down here in the sun, away from the snows of Colter, but also not so hot that it’s unbearable. 

It’s good to be out here hunting too. It’s not just the unending need for it in camp. You’ve always been a wandering spirit. Maybe that’s why Arthur often asks you to accompany him. You use the excuse of hunting to be alone with him. He is your boyfriend, after all. The two of you got together just before leaving Colter. 

As you scan the river and the trail beneath your cliff, you hear Arthur’s horse to your right beginning to move, her heavy hooves thumping rhythmically on the ground. You pat your own mount and turn away from the cliff, going over to meet Arthur. 

“Think I saw a good herd of deer down by the river,” he says once you’re close. 

“Let’s go get ‘em then,” you say. He nods and kicks his horse into a steady trot. You follow him. The two of you ignore the trail and go over the wild lands towards the river. Ahead is a decline in between some of the cliffs, giving way towards the river and the trees not too far from it. You see a cluster of small boulders. They’re mostly flat rocks or scattered enough that even though you skirt your horse around them, Arthur doesn’t. His horse is so large she has more capabilities than your own does. 

However, Arthur misjudges the cluster. When his horse is halfway through, one of her front feet lands on a flat rock that then slips, causing her to stumble. She over-corrects and falls, throwing Arthur forward as she squeals in shock. 

“Arthur! You okay?” you say, pulling your horse to a stop and leaping off. As you run over to him, he sits up. 

“Ah, I’m okay. What the hell happened?” He puts his hat back on as his horse gets back to her feet. 

“Arthur, I know you think your horse can walk on any terrain, but ya gotta remember that she can’t.” You try not to laugh, seeing that they’re both unhurt. 

He mumbles something and stands up, turning around. That’s when you see his sleeve is a bit torn and there’s blood under it. 

“Arthur, you’re cut. Let me help you get cleaned up. Come on.” 

“I can take care of it myself, Y/N.” 

“Will you stop fightin’ me, Arthur? Just let me help you for once.” You roll your eyes and mount your horse. God, he can be stubborn. Luckily he decides not to argue and gets back on his own horse after he checks she’s not injured. She shakes her mane, a little disgruntled but otherwise fine. 

You lead Arthur over to the river and dismount yet again. When you reach into your saddlebags to grab some bandages, you tell Arthur to take his shirt off. He starts arguing. 

“Arthur, please. I am trying to help you,” you say a bit more harshly than you meant. He sighs and dismounts, but complies. You’re back is to him as he does this, but when you turn around, he’s shirtless. It makes you stop, seeing him like this. 

You’ve always known Arthur is a well defined man, physically. It’s not hard to see how broad his shoulders and chest are under his clothes, but you had no idea he was so well formed. He’s looking down at his hands, holding onto his shirt, which is a good thing as you’re trying to pull your eyes from his bare chest, with just the right amount of hair. 

You pull yourself together when you see his arm, still bleeding and with a light coat of dust on it. Clearing your throat, you go to the river and soak one of the bandages. When you turn back to him, you tell him to sit down so you can reach his arm. He does, though he clearly isn’t happy about the situation. 

“Just relax, will you?” you say, trying to hide your own blush. 

“I’m tryin’. Just sorry you have to see me in this state.” 

Your small smile slips off your face. Of course Arthur wouldn’t want you seeing him this way. Maybe he said he’s liked you since he met you, but he surely couldn’t have ever been attracted to you. Not that you can blame him. He looks up and sees your face. 

“Darlin’, I meant I’m sorry ya have to see me… like this. I’m less ugly when I’m dressed.” 

“Arthur,” you say with a small moan. “You’re not ugly, how often do I have to tell you? I always thought you were handsome. Now let me fix you up.” 

You kneel down next to him and start rubbing the cut on his arm with the wet cloth. He winces but doesn’t move. When it’s cleaned up, the cut turns out to be a lot less worse than you thought it was. You wrap it up in another bandage, but when you’re done, you find yourself unable to pull your hands away from his arm. 

Without looking at his face, you start feeling his arm. He’s firm, a thick vein running down the inside of his arm, going past his elbow and to his wrist. He holds still as you trace your arms over him, but you can feel his eyes on your fingers. You look up at him and blush, snatching your hands away. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

He chuckles a bit, hiding his eyes beneath his hat. “Don’t be. I… I kinda liked that.” 

You smile again and put your hands back on his arm. As you start feeling him, you swear he flexes and you laugh. 

“Show off,” you say. He laughs more and then lifts his arm, fully flexing his bicep. 

“Gotta impress my girl somehow, don’t I?” 

“Arthur, you impress me everyday,” you say as he lowers his arm. Your fingers leave his biceps and wander to his shoulder, then his chest and upper back. He seems to like it as his arm loops behind you and pulls you up to sit on his lap. Your hand wanders up to his neck as you look at him and he kisses you, soft and gentle. You shift a little in his lap and the repositioning of your weight on him sends him off-balance and he tilts backwards and falls. 

“Shit,” you say, starting to lift yourself off of him. “Sorry!” 

“Don’t be,” he says and pulls you back on top of him so he can kiss you again. Normally you’d never do this, not with the potential that some passing stranger might see you. But it’s impossible to pull away when it’s Arthur kissing you like this. 

Before long, you’re getting carried away and you start kissing his neck. He groans and you feel something pressing into your hip. 

“Mm, getting excited?” you purr in his ear. 

He just tilts his head back a bit more, his eyes closed. When you don’t continue, he looks at you, a strange smile on his face. 

“Y’know, with all this mud, Grimshaw’s gonna skin us alive if we go back like this,” he says. 

You smile, your fingers weaving through his chest hair. “What are you suggesting?” 

His grin widens. “How about we take a dip in this river?” 

“Why, Mr. Morgan, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you just want to see me naked.” 

“That’s only a bonus to us gettin’ cleaned up.” 

You laugh and stand up. He gets up as well and you grab his hand, leading him over to a cluster of trees right on the edge of the river. Once in their protection, you make sure he’s watching as you strip out of your clothes. 

The second you’re completely exposed, he suddenly pushes you against a tree, your back scraping along the trunk. 

“Arthur!” you pant. 

“Shhh,” he says, his eyes raking over your body. “Let me get a good look at you.” He scans you and you feel yourself blush, and you feel a yearning stemming from between your legs. Arthur leans in and starts kissing you again. Before long, he starts kissing you in other places. He follows this by bringing you pleasures you’ve never known you could experience. 

Afterwards, the two of you lie in one another’s embrace in the cool, damp earth under the shade of the trees. It’s so peaceful and warm, you could fall asleep right here. Arthur kisses your head and pats your back. 

“Come on, sweetheart, let’s actually get ourselves cleaned up.” 

The two of you stand, and you yawn heavily. There’s a pleasant tenderness between your legs now, but you don’t mind. As you watch Arthur begin wiping the mud from his skin, you grin. You’ll have to remember to admire his arms more often if you get this kind of response from him every time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love hearing the thoughts of my readers! Don't be shy!


	100. Photo Album - Modern AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: hiya! how about some arthur morgan x fem!reader when he finds out she’s pregnant or his reaction to becoming a father? thank you 💙

You sit down heavily, your heart thumping hard but steady. Thoughts race around each other in your mind, as well as emotions. You feel excitement, anxiety, and even fear. But why should you be afraid? You and Arthur have been trying for this result for months. 

As you sit and think, you suddenly remember that Arthur will be home in an hour. Shit, you want to tell him right now about the news, but you don’t want to just tell him the same way you would if you’d just bought a bag of apples. There’s no excitement in that. It wouldn’t be right, not for this life-altering news. No, you need to come up with something special. 

The hour passes and… nothing. You’ve nothing to show for it. You tried coming up with a fun or cute way to tell him and couldn’t come up with anything. Too soon, you hear his truck rumbling into the driveway, turn off, and then the sound of him whistling as he comes to the door. He must have had a good day if he’s whistling. Oh if only you could make it better. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says the moment he opens the door, a big grin on his face. 

“Hi!” you say too eagerly. He doesn’t notice. When he hugs you, he notices that you don’t return it in the same way you usually do. You’re more standoffish. 

“Wha’s wrong?” he asks. 

“N-nothing,” you lie. “Just tired is all.” 

He shrugs his shoulders and goes into your room to take off his shoes. Throughout the remainder of the evening, you try thinking of a good way to tell him. Again though, you don’t just want to say it. There’s no spark with that way. 

A few days later, you come home from the craft store, your hands laden with bags of supplies. You came up with this idea last night while laying in bed. Arthur still doesn’t know, but you think he might be getting suspicious that something’s up. He keeps asking if you’re feeling okay or if something’s wrong. 

When you unload your bags, you set down to work. It takes a few hours to bring everything together, but it looks even better than you’d been hoping. It’s just a binder you wrapped in some nice fabric so it doesn’t look so boring. But it’s what’s inside that you’re really proud of. 

Arthur comes home and you greet him as normally as possible, trying not to seem overly excited. He kisses you and heads into your room to take off his shoes. He doesn’t notice the binder sitting on his pillow at first, but when he sits down, it slides just enough that he sees it. 

“Wha’s this?” he asks softly. You’re not in the room, but he can hear you moving around in the kitchen getting dinner started. He wants to help you but curiosity gets the better of him. He picks up the binder, there’s no words on the front. But he likes the fabric. The green and yellow hues remind him of sunlight streaming through leaves of a tree. 

He opens it and sees the very first picture you and he took together all those years ago. It was only a couple weeks after you started dating. He smiles and flips the page. The picture is the next one you two took together. It was when he finally convinced you to ride his horse. In the photo, he’s standing next to you as you sit in the saddle. He smiles, remembering that moment fondly. 

He keeps on flipping through the pictures. Each one is a moment he remembers fondly. Sharing a kiss on the top of a ferris wheel. Both of you standing in the shark tube at the aquarium. Arthur pulling a goofy face at the sleeping lion on the other side of the glass at the zoo. Each one is of an important moment in your lives together. There’s even just simple pictures of you both sitting next to each other on a porch swing, fishing at the lake. He loves each one of them. 

He comes to the last of the pictures and then flips together to see a handwritten note. It says, “We’ve shared so many special moments and each one is a memory I’ll hold onto forever. I have another I want to share with you.” 

When he flips the note, there’s nothing there. What is it you’re wanting to share with him? He flips through the whole binder, but there’s nothing except empty sleeves to hold photos that don’t exist yet. He closes it and stands up, heading into the kitchen. 

“Darlin’, what is this?” 

You smile, holding your phone in such a way he knows you’re getting ready to take a picture of him. 

“It’s for you,” you say. 

“I know, but why’s there a whole bunch of empty sleeves?” 

“They’re for us to fill when we have our baby.” 

He falls silent and his brows furrow a bit. “Baby?” He sighs. “Honey, I know it’s frustratin’. You and I been tryin’ a long time, I know.” 

You roll your eyes. This whole thing obviously went right over his head. “Arthur, we don’t have to try anymore. I’m pregnant.” 

The moment he registers it, you snap a picture. “There! We can add this to our book now!” You show him the picture of his shocked expression, but he doesn’t move.

“You… you’re…” 

“Yes, honey. We’re having a baby!” 

He lets out a sharp breath and smiles, immediately folding you into his arms. “Thank you, darlin’. I couldn’t be more proud.” 

“You should be, babe. It’s gonna be a little you.” 

“And a whole lotta you.” He chuckles and kisses your head, swaying a bit as he hugs you. In his mind, this moment couldn’t be more special.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love talking to my readers! Don't be shy!


	101. Fishing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hello! I'm nervous bc i never ask smth like this, but I love your fics, it kept me sane the last weeks! I love whumpy/angsty arthur fics (sorry) and I have so many ideas, but no courage to write. Here is something i literally dreamed: "Arthur getting shot in a shootout and falls in the water, Dutch doesn't know what to do, but (fem)reader dives in right away to save him. She takes care of him, because shot +getting sick from the water" Hopefully it's something. greetings from germany :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo hoo! My 100th request! Should I do something special for you readers to celebrate?

“It’ll be fine, darlin’,” Arthur says, grabbing the boat and pushing it closer to the water. 

“I don’t know, Arthur,” you reply, watching him. “I’ve got a bad feeling.” 

“Your girl worries too much, Mr. Morgan,” Dutch chuckles. He bends down to help Arthur and they manage to get the boat into the water. “Y/N, we’re just going off to fish. I know a great place.” 

“I’m sure it is a great place but…” you say. Arthur walks up to you and puts his hands on your shoulders. 

“Sweetheart, I promise nothin’ will happen. What danger can we get from just fishin’? ‘Sides, thought you loved doin’ this.” He gives you a smirk. 

“I do… and I want to. But, like I said, I’m just nervous. Feels like somethin’ bad’s gonna happen.” 

“Well then stay in camp,” Dutch growls, checking the oars. “Arthur and I will go, have ourselves a good time.” 

You let out a small groan, knowing your hands are tied. It was your idea to go on a fishing trip, but you thought Arthur might agree to just staying on shore, maybe even near Clemens Point. Dutch overheard and said he knew a great place where the fish would likely be plentiful and fat. Arthur heartily agreed, saying he needed to get out of camp for a while. You need to as well, but you just can’t shake this strange sense of foreboding. 

“Okay, fine,” you finally say and you clamber into the boat after Dutch, taking the front seat at the front. Arthur gives it one final shove and then hops in, taking the oars as he sits down. He begins rowing and Dutch points him on where to go. 

“It’s a long ways off, but I bet the amount we catch will be worth it.”

“Where exactly is this spot?” you ask. 

“Just near Bard’s Crossing,” Dutch replies, pointing to the massive bridge connecting New Hanover to West Elizabeth, stretching high above the Cumberland River. 

“Seriously, Dutch?” Arthur growls, still rowing. “We couldn’ta ridden there and grabbed a boat? That’s a long ways off!” 

“Oh now Arthur, you’re not telling me you’re adverse to a little hard labor, are ya?” 

You hate when Dutch does this because he knows Arthur will respond in just the way he wants. It’s always bothered you since you saw from the beginning it was a manipulation tactic for Dutch. However, you say nothing, but maybe you’ll talk about it with Arthur later tonight.

Arthur grumbles a bit and keeps on rowing. As time passes, Dutch suggests a song, which you and Arthur heartily agree to. Afternoon sets in and the boat finally arrives at the mouth of the Cumberland River where it flows into Flat Iron Lake, heavy and fast. 

“This is the spot, drop anchor,” Dutch says, rubbing his hands together. You pick up the heavy weight and toss it into the water, watching it sink and dragging the rope behind it. “This place should be great.” 

You silently agree with Dutch, looking out at where the river meets the lake. With the river flowing so fast, it’s surely bringing a lot of food down for fish and they will be congregating down here to meet it. There’s also bound to be plenty of deep channels here for them to hide. The fish that are here will be hungry and looking to feed. 

The three of you stand up and bring out your poles, assembling them and attaching lures. Dutch swings out first, then Arthur, and then you. Slowly, you begin reeling in your line, waiting for something to grab at it. 

You smile as you think on how it was Arthur who taught you how to fish all those years ago. He taught you many things. That was how the two of you fell in love. You’ve never loved anyone as much as him, and you’d been hoping he might ask you to spend the rest of your lives together. But then Blackwater happened and everything fell apart. Surely he will ask when things calm down? 

Dutch interrupts your thoughts. “You know, my mother’s buried in Blackwater,” he says, looking over to the shore where the town sits. He tells about how she and him didn’t always get along but they still loved each other in their own ways. As he talks, the boat drifts, revolving around the spot the anchor lies. Its rear where Arthur stands points towards the nearest shore. 

You’re still feeling nervous, but you’re beginning to doubt yourself. Maybe you’ve just been expecting something bad to happen for a while now. After all, plenty already has. First the Blackwater heist, then being threatened by the Pinkertons. Cornwall arriving in Valentine and driving the gang out. You’re not the only one wondering what will fall on the camp next. 

“Y/N, I ever tell ya about my dog Copper?” Arthur asks, leaning his head forward to smile at you. You shake your head. 

“You never had control of him,” Dutch says, almost darkly. 

“Ah he was a good dog, though. Never lost the puppy in him. But one day we all came back from this fishin’ trip. I turned my back for one second and Copper hopped up, ate all the fish in one go. I never seen Hosea so mad in my life.” 

You laugh heartily, easily able to imagine it. “Would you ever consider getting another dog?” 

“Maybe. Not now though. Things are too hectic,” he says. 

“Well, we got Cain,” Dutch says. “Though I suppose he’s more Jack’s dog than anyone else’s. I haven’t seen a boy love a dog so much since, well, since you were a boy, Arthur. Y/N, Arthur ever tell ya about his adventures as a boy? Oh I got some good ones to tell!” 

“Don’t do this, Dutch,” Arthur pleads, casting out again. 

“You gotta tell me now, Dutch!” 

He chuckles. “Well there was one day he came back from town with these big beautiful bass. He was maybe twenty, and we congratulated him all night. Made toasts to him. Well, next day we go into town and-” 

Dutch is suddenly cut off by a spot in the lake directly in front of him exploding, water shooting up into the air, a sound like thunder ripping through the air. All three of you know the sound too well: someone is shooting at you. 

“What the…” Arthur says, dropping his pole and whipping his gun out.

“O’Driscolls!” Dutch hollers, shooting at the shoreline. Down the upgrade in the land leading to the bridge, men are running down. Some are on horseback, but there’s no denying it. They’re from Dutch’s rival gang run by Colm O’Driscoll.

You drop your pole with a clatter and yank out your pistol, returning fire to the men. You try to ignore how seriously outnumbered and outgunned you are, trying to reassure yourself with the thought that Dutch and Arthur are some of the best gunmen you’ve ever known. Your aim isn’t bad either as you take down three O’Driscolls on the shore. 

One of the men shrieks something and walks into the lake, going all the way up to his knees. “You’re dead!” he screams and fires. You and he shoots at the same time, but as he falls, you hear Arthur give a pained grunt. He drops his pistol, clutches his ribs and hunkers down. The redistribution of his weight is too much and the boat tips, making him topple out. 

“Arthur” you scream. “Dutch, Arthur!” 

“Just shoot, Y/N! We’ll worry about Arthur as soon as these bastards are dealt with.” 

Typical Dutch. Ignoring Arthur when he needs his help the most. You look at the black water of the lake where Arthur fell in, expecting his head to be bobbing out of the water. But it isn’t. There’s only a small cluster of bubbles. 

“Goddamn it, Dutch!” you hiss and you put your pistol back. Dutch says your name but you ignore him, diving into the water. 

It’s freezing in the lake. Not surprising since the water where you are is from the river, which is mostly runoff from the frozen mountains. It doesn’t help that the sun was just setting beyond the horizon when the O’Driscolls attacked. You try to scan the deep water, but your vision is heavily blurred. Then you see a flicker of blue in the area where he went down. It must be Arthur. 

Quickly you weave your arms and kick your legs, swimming over to him. You’re not the strongest swimmer nor do you have the greatest capacity to hold your breath, but none of that matters. All you care about is getting Arthur. 

As you get closer to the blue flicker, the rest of his body forms. Swirling with the column of bubbles is a trail of blood. Finally you’re close enough to wrap your arms around his bulky chest and you start trying to swim back to the surface. It’s harder than you expected now that you’ve lost use of your arms. Your legs kick as hard as they can, but your lungs are beginning to burn. You wish you could beg Arthur to help you save him. 

As though he can hear your thoughts, his arms suddenly begin flapping through the water, slow but strong. He kicks with his own legs and since they’re much longer and more powerful, you move much quicker. 

It seemed like it took minutes to get from the surface to him, but now you make the return trip in seconds. Both your heads break through the water and you gasp for breath, coughing a bit. Gunshots still echo overhead but the boat isn’t too far away. With all your strength, you begin kicking, heaving Arthur over to it. 

“Dutch,” you gasp. “Dutch, help me get him into the boat.” 

“Can’t you see we’re still being fired on, Y/N?” he roars as he shoots again. He’s got both pistols out now. 

“Goddamn it, Dutch! Arthur, hang onto the boat.” 

He doesn’t say anything, but his hands latch onto the boat. You keep one arm on him, anchoring yourself to his body, and then reach into your holster, pulling out your gun. You fire and nothing happens. Shit. The gun powder’s too wet. You holster it and look back at Dutch as a shot splashes not too far from you.

“Dutch, give me one of your guns!” you shout, but he either can’t hear you or he’s ignoring you. “DUTCH!” He finally looks at you and you repeat your request. 

“I can handle them just fine, Y/N.” 

“Obviously you can’t, otherwise they’d all be dead. Just give me your damn gun!” 

Grumbling, Dutch tosses you one of his pistols and you turn your arm, returning fire on the remaining O’Driscolls. There’s only three of them left, all standing on the shores. One of them has a rifle, but the other two have pistols. You shoot at them, taking one down, but then you run out of ammo. 

“Dutch!” you holler, feeling truly desperate. There’s a decently sized pool of blood around Arthur now that’s beginning to worry you. Dutch growls incoherently and shoots in quick successions, finally taking down the last two O’Driscolls. He holsters his gun and turns towards you, bending down to grab Arthur by the arms. 

“Come on, big boy,” he grunts, heaving as you push him from the water. You’re not much use though as you’ve nothing to anchor yourself on, your legs still kicking through open water. Arthur’s not so badly wounded he can’t help himself though, he helps to hoist himself up with the arm on his uninjured left side. 

Finally, you somehow get him into the boat. He falls onto his back, coughing and spluttering. Dutch bends down and grabs your arm, lifting you up, which is much easier. Ignoring the exhaustion from the fight and your swim, you bend down and inspect Arthur, fumbling with his soaked shirt to get it unbuttoned. You manage it at last and expose his wound. It’s not good, but you don’t think it’ll be fatal as long as it’s treated quickly. 

“Quick, Dutch, take us back.” 

You half expect him to argue, to say something that will uphold his pride, but luckily he sits in Arthur’s previous spot and begins rowing, leaving the shore littered with bodies behind. Just before he sets off, you reach down into the lake and grab Arthur’s hat. 

As Dutch rows, you try stemming the flow of blood from Arthur’s wound, but there’s not much point as that bullet needs to be taken out. You look up, towards your destination, which looks miles away. Hope begins to fade away, quickly being replaced by fear. 

Arthur’s hand suddenly wraps around yours. “Stay with me, darlin’,” he pants. 

You look down and squeeze his hand. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere. Just focus on me.” You run your free hand through his damp hair and he smiles a bit, looking into your eyes. 

After what seems to have taken a lifetime, Dutch pulls the boat ashore at Clemens Point. He immediately calls for aid and several of the others come running over. You grab Arthur’s arms and heave him up, but your exhaustion has properly set in and Arthur weighs more than you do. You can only manage a few steps, which are made extremely awkward by the curve of the boat’s bottom before the others reach you. Charles and John grab him, taking on the burden, and they help heave him from the boat. 

“What the hell happened?” Hosea demands, walking over and being closely followed by Grimshaw, who barks at Charles and John to get Arthur to bed. 

“Dutch is an idiot, that’s what happened,” you snap, bending over to try and catch your breath. 

“You’re out of line, Y/N,” Dutch says sharply. “I had no idea those bastards would catch us there.” 

“I told you I had a bad feeling about it! But did you listen to me? No. You never listen to me!” Rage courses through you. You can’t shake the image of Dutch just standing there on the boat, watching as Arthur fell in, and then him not responding. “You’re always sayin’ how Arthur’s like your son, Dutch, but when you’re required to act like a father to your metaphorical son, you are the worst-”

“ENOUGH!” he shouts, glaring at you. You’ve crossed a line. “That is enough, Y/N. Those bastards would have killed us all, and I knew Arthur would be fine. Because you were there. I knew you would save him.” 

“Typical,” you hiss, your teeth shivering from both the rage and the cold caused by your soaked clothing. “You let everyone else do your dirty work all because you didn’t want to get your hat wet.” 

Without waiting for him to respond, you stomp off towards yours and Arthur’s tent. You know you were out of line with Dutch, but you’re so angry and scared you don’t care. In the tent, Arthur’s surrounded by the other girls who are busy working away. He’s grunting and writhing in pain, his legs being pinned down by John and Karen while Tilly holds a thick stick in his mouth. Grimshaw and Mary-Beth are busy trying to get the bullet out of his torso. 

“Let me,” you say to Tilly, taking her place at his head. She nods and stands up, letting you kneel down at the head of the bed. Your fingers brush through his hair and you try not to look at what Grimshaw and Mary-Beth are doing. You’ve seen an innumerable amount of gruesome things happen to people, but you can’t stand watching it happen to the man you love. 

Arthur seems to calm down a bit when he feels your fingers in his hair, but he’s still in a lot of pain. You grip his shoulder and one of his hands comes up and grabs yours, crushing it. You let him though. 

“There,” Grimshaw finally says, holding up the long pair of thin tongs, a bloodied bullet clamped in them. “It’s over, Mr. Morgan.” 

He lets out a long breath, his face, neck and chest coated in sweat. Grimshaw turns away and Mary-Beth and Tilly immediately begin stitching and bandaging him up tightly. After a few minutes, they state there’s nothing more that can be done. 

“Those bandages will need to be changed after a few hours,” Strauss declares, inspecting the girls’ work. “The bleeding should stop soon though.” 

You pat Arthur’s shoulder, your other hand still clamped in his firm grip. You bend down and kiss his forehead, noting his closed eyes. Poor man is beyond exhausted. “Get some rest,” you whisper. 

“Stay with me,” he mutters. 

You promise him you won’t leave his side, but you get up and close the tent flaps, wanting some privacy. Then, gently as you can, you remove his soaked clothes. He shivers lightly when he’s fully naked, but you drape him in the blanket. When you’re changed from your own wet clothes and into a light, dry nightdress, you climb under the blanket and huddle close to him, trying to keep him warm. Despite his obvious discomfort, he holds you close. After a short period, you hear him grunt in his sleep. Feeling that the worst is behind, you close your eyes and drift off as well. 

*****************************************

A few days pass. Arthur gets a bit feverish, but you manage to keep it down to a fair minimum. Reverend comforts him a bit when he voices his fears that he might not survive by telling him you won’t let him die, not even if he wanted to. 

Dutch has been very respectful of the space around your tent. It’s almost as though he’s afraid you might start screaming at him again, which you’ve half a mind to. He even lets you butt in front of him at the line for dinners to get Arthur food, which he’s never done for anyone. 

Hosea cam and spoke to both you and Arthur the day after the ambush. He said you were right to get after Dutch, that he’s often let Arthur take the worst hits, but he also warns you not to go ribbing Dutch about this. 

“I’ve talked with him, he feels terrible. He knows he should’ve been the one to save Arthur, not you. He’s very sorry.”

“Well, I hope he doesn’t expect me to forgive him until he tells Arthur to his face how bad he feels about the whole thing,” you say proudly. Arthur chuckles from the bed. Hosea does too, but then he leaves. 

After only a week, Arthur’s greatly improved, much quicker than anyone could have predicted. Hosea teases that it’s your stunning work that has done the trick and that under your care, Arthur will live beyond a hundred. You doubt this, though you appreciate it all the same. Arthur’s always been a fast healer, and you take into account the fact that the bullet didn’t hit any of his bones nor puncture any vital organs. 

Arthur’s already been moving around camp, though he still moves quite gingerly. He tries to do regular work, but you quickly stop him from doing the straining stuff like chopping wood. “You’ll rip out your stitches,” you scold him lightly and make him sit down to help you with knitting. He complains but doesn’t refuse the work. 

Night falls, and you’re both sitting on the log near the campfire. Your head’s lying on his shoulder, your hand clasped in his. It’s late. Much later than you usually stay up, but you’re not ready to go to bed yet. 

John, who’s been sitting on the other side of the fire for a while, stands up and stretches, yawning. “Think I’m gonna turn in,” he says before leaving. Now you’re alone with Arthur. 

After a few moments, your hand leaves Arthur and you wind it up his body, hovering lightly over his wound. 

“What you doin’?” he asks softly. 

“Just makin’ sure. Don’t want you bleeding.” 

“I ain’t bled there in days, darlin’.” He kisses your head and then winds an arm behind you, allowing you to cuddle into him better. A few more minutes pass and it feels like he’s got something heavy on his mind. 

“Y’know, I have to apologize to ya, darlin’.”

“What for, Arthur?” 

“I ain’t… I ain’t appreciated you properly. Ain’t done for you what ya deserve. These past few days have shown me that.” 

“What are you talking about?” you ask, looking up at him. Arthur’s the best companion you’ve ever had. He’s always been protective yet gentle, thoughtful and passionate. You’ve never wanted to devote your life to a person so much ever before. 

“I mean… you deserve so much more than I given you. I shoulda done this months ago, but… well, I always blamed Blackwater on it, but truth is, I was scared. Then I told myself I wanted to wait until I could do it properly, make it special.” 

“Arthur, what are you going on about?” 

He hesitates for a second. “Darlin’, I wanna marry ya.” 

Your heart stops for a second and his words echo through your mind. “M-marry me?” 

“Yes. Listen, I… if you decide it’s dumb or that you don’t wanna, I understand.” 

You wipe your eyes and sniff. “Shut up, Arthur. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to ask?” 

He smiles a bit, his eyes shining with tears. “Too long, I’m guessing.” 

“Your damn right,” you say and you stretch up, kissing him hard. His arms wind tightly around you, holding you firmly against him. As you sit in his arms, pressing your lips to his and truly appreciating the form of his body against your own, your mind wanders to how wonderful it will be to spend the rest of your life with him. You’ve never wanted anything more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna know what y'all think! Liked this? Tell me. Didn't like it? Tell me!


	102. Double Agent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hey, [it's] been awhile. May I request angst mixed with betrayal from the reader to Arthur? She's an undercover Pinkerton and quickly falls in the VDL gang (Milton ordered her to after his visit in Clemen). She then later finds out about Micah and refuses to team up with him, but make their agreement he can have Dutch and her Arthur. She unintentionally falls in love and can't kill him. She betrays Milton and leaves Arthur. He chases after her but she's long gone, riding away in a train.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is not as detailed as past works, but that was to save time! This much alone was already 10 pages.

You stand in the center of the clearing, inspecting the various items scattered around. They were here, that damn gang you’ve been chasing for weeks now. From the way the things they left behind lie, they left in a hurry. But where? The trails they took out of here in their wagons point to the main trail where it’s impossible to track them. 

Ross walks over to you, holding a broken pocketwatch. “Find anything?” he asks you, and you respond with a shake of your head. 

“We need to find these… people,” Milton says, astride his horse. 

He was assigned the mission of hunting down the Van der Linde gang shortly after the Blackwater incident. His focus on them has been nothing short of an obsession. He bumped into one of the higher ups in the gang about a week back. The man had been out fishing with a young boy, presumably his son. Then Cornwall showed up in Valentine and shot Van der Linde and some of his boys out of town, screwing up everything. They clearly fled shortly afterwards. 

You’ve been following the movements of the gang along with Milton and the other men. Their path is dribbled with blood and corpses. You won’t soon forget finding that river full of dead men, the result of a shootout involving some of Dutch’s boys after they robbed a stage. It’s believed the dead belong to a rival gang, though nothing is confirmed yet. 

“You there,” Milton barks at you, beckoning to you. “Have you found anything? Any tracks? I want these men caught.” 

“No, sir.” You say stiffly. Of course he would expect you to have found something, even though no one else has. 

Agent Milton. Even to the other agents, he’s a bastard. He’s worse to you because you’re the only woman. You were recruited into it by your father, who wanted to prove, after the pleadings of your now-dead mother, that women could do the same jobs as men. Milton clearly disagreed with your father and wasn’t afraid to voice it, but as your father is head of the Agency, there was little he could do to dissuade your father. 

“Well, get looking, woman. Otherwise all you’ll be doing is proving sweet old daddy wrong.” 

You ignore the remark and go back to searching. Just because your father put you here doesn’t mean Milton can’t dismiss you, as much as you hate him. Besides, you want to prove that you are just as capable as the rest of the fellas here. 

However, after another few hours of searching, nothing is found that points to where the gang has fled. Milton believes they went either north or east. East is more likely as the mountains in the north are still locked in snow. 

After a couple of weeks go by, rumors have been sprouting up from the town of Rhodes of civil unrest between the two most prominent families in the regions, the Grays and the Braithwaites. Something about it catches your attention. You’ve heard of these families of course, they’re the richest in the area. Could Van der Linde be playing them both in his endless attempts for money? 

You bring the idea up to Milton who dismisses it at first. Of course he does. He can never admit that some of your ideas are actually good. That is until word gets out that most of the Grays were killed during a massive shootout and the Irishman who escaped bounty hunters in Blackwater was shot and killed. Even Milton couldn’t deny that your previous predictions were right, so he takes you and Ross down with him to investigate. 

Finding the gang’s hideout isn’t hard. Ross spotted a huge group of them leaving a cluster of trees in an area called Clemens Point. Van der Linde was with them so Milton deemed it pointless to go into their hideout until morning when it was sure he would be there. 

When it’s time to go to the hideout, Milton stops you. “I’m not going to be held responsible when you get shot,” he says nastily before riding off. That’s it, you’ve had it. You’re sick and tired of Milton and his patronizing. When Ross and Milton return, announcing their unsuccessful attempt at taking down the gang, it’s obvious the gang is going to make another run. It’s time for some real action. 

You ditch your agent’s uniform and don some ordinary clothes, trying to look the part. You’re fairly sure the gang will continue to head east. You would if you were an outlaw. Saint Denis is a good place to hide. Plenty of criminals find a place to disappear there. So you position yourself on the trail and before long, a wagon train led by Van der Linde himself comes your way, so you pretend to be injured. 

You couldn’t have expected things to go so well, but before you know it, you’re ingratiated into the camp. They’ve moved into Shady Belle, but you have to be careful about sneaking off to report it to Milton. Many of the members are suspicious about you, not that you blame them. Your fake backstory has plenty of holes, even you can see that. 

That’s not the only thing stopping you from reporting the gang to Milton, though. After only a couple of weeks, you feel more accepted here than you ever did with Milton and the other agents. It’s clear that both men and women are treated fairly equal. Hell, only the first night, two girls named Karen and Tilly invited you to go robbing, which you did to try and prove you weren’t an officer. 

As you dig yourself deeper in the gang, you find yourself becoming more involved in their lives. They’re not what Milton said they were, savage people who would do anything out of desperation, lacking sympathy for any and all other people. They’re a tight-knit family people and most of them were handed a raw deal in life and are simply trying to make the best of it with what they have. The best example of this is Dutch Van der Linde’s right-hand gun, Arthur Morgan. 

It didn’t take you long of digging to find out his backstory (followed up with what Milton told you). Orphaned at a young age, he was forced to turn to a life of crime for survival and was taken in by Dutch and Hosea. Despite the amount of people he’s robbed and killed, you cannot deny that he is one of the best people you’ve met. Brave, determined, and one of the most loyal people you’ve ever known. 

Throughout your time with the Pinkertons, you saw plenty of cases of agents turning their backs on one another in order to elevate themselves in the ranks. But Dutch and Arthur, they don’t do that. Not because they are the highest in the gang, but because they care about the others. It’s not long after you spend some time with Arthur that you realize you’ve fallen for him, and his behavior towards you says he feels the same. 

Arthur’s sweet and caring. He immediately took you in when you joined, trying to dig into your back story. Then Tilly was kidnapped and you’d gone with them to find her and it was obvious how much Arthur cared. You also witnessed Arthur comforting Tilly when she was found and it melted your heart. A few weeks later, you and Arthur shared your first kiss in the theater in Saint Denis. 

Things quickly changed between you after that. Arthur quickly became the best companion you’ve ever had. Protective, thoughtful. He even liked to go around in camp and hug you, sometimes even kiss you. One night he pulled you onto his lap while he played poker with John and Susan. A few nights after that incident, you and Arthur got drunk and ended up having sex in his bed. It was easily the best of your life. 

A few days have passed since you and Arthur first made love. The gang is busy as a big bank heist is being planned and it’s supposed to happen today. The Pinkerton part of your brain knows you should slip away from the gang and tell Milton about this, but the other part of your brain, the one loyal to Arthur and Dutch, says in a much more powerful voice to leave it alone, so that’s what you decide to do. 

You sit up in Arthur’s cot, stretching. A large hand suddenly slides over your back. 

“You nervous?” Arthur’s voice says. “Your first big heist.” 

“Arthur, I’m not even going to be part of it. I’m staying here, remember?” you laugh and turn around, putting your hand on his bare chest. 

“Yeah, but still. It don’t take a genius to know you’re green at this sorta thing.” 

“Sure, but I don’t think it’ll be a problem. After all, you all seem capable.” 

“Sure,” he says. “Now come here. I’m feelin’... stressed.” 

You smile, knowing Arthur wants to get busy with you again. “Liar, but I’ll humor you.” You lean down and kiss him before straddling his legs and getting to work. 

A few hours later, Arthur walks out of the manor, dressed in his fancy suit. He pulls you into a long, tight kiss before mounting his horse. You watch him and the others ride off. Micah Bell turns and gives you a look that unsettles you for some reason. 

**************************************  
Shortly after the heist, the news came that the robbery had gone as far south as it could have. Most of the men who went are missing, John’s imprisoned and Lenny and Hosea are dead. Somehow Milton found out about the robbery, even though you haven’t seen him since the gang left Rhodes. However, you can’t shake a feeling of guilt for the incident. How could you not? You’re a Pinkerton, and it was your men who destroyed everything. 

While Dutch, Arthur and the others are missing, you help the gang as best you can, but you also have a feeling that Milton’s patience with you has grown extremely thin. So when you can manage to slip away from the gang without attracting suspicion, you meet up with Milton. 

“We managed to catch Van der Linde in the act of robbing the bank without your aid, Miss (your last name). If it were up to me, I’d have you imprisoned with the rest of those men who remain for aiding criminals.” 

You swallow nervously, knowing he could easily have you arrested. There’s enough evidence to prove his word too. Not even your father could keep you out. 

“However, I am willing to make a deal for those who have earned it,” Milton says, his eyes cold. “So I will make you one now. Give me Van der Linde and I will not give your dear daddy the horrible truth.” 

“I can’t,” you say. “I don’t know where he is. After he managed to escape your lot, he disappeared along with the other men left alive from the heist.” 

“My lot, hmm?” Milton says. “My, I never thought highly of you to begin with, but even I gave you credit to not stoop so low.” 

You blush a bit, aware of the other men staring hard at you. “Milton, give me one more chance. I can try to fix this with the least amount of damage. I’ll do my best to bring you Van der Linde.” 

To your surprise, Milton agrees, so you return to the gang. A few weeks later, Dutch, Arthur and the others return. Soon after, the gang moves up to Beaver Hollow and then things really fall apart. Molly gets killed for supposedly ratting the gang out to Milton, which doesn’t sound right to you. Milton never mentioned a member of the gang spilling the beans. 

Things quickly go downhill after this. Dutch has clearly begun to lose his mind, his ideas are getting wilder and more risky. Arthur and some of the others try to slow him down, including you, but you’re also under a lot of pressure. Milton made it clear that you’re expected to report to him in order to avoid him telling your father what you’ve really been doing. He’s using your role as a double agent to his full advantage. Somehow though, Dutch still evades Milton’s grasp, and luckily so does Arthur. You, however, are not counting on this to last. 

Soon after Arthur and John destroy the bridge near the fort, you sit Arthur down, finally at your wit’s end. This pressure from Dutch and Milton is really straining you. In the quiet and privacy of your shared tent, you beg Arthur to run away with you. 

“Arthur, I have a way for us to get out. I… I can’t guarantee everyone else will come with us.” 

“What you talkin’ about, darlin’?” 

It’s time to come clean, you decide, so you tell him the truth. Arthur is beyond furious He storms out of the tent without bothering to give you a response. It’s not long afterwards that everyone else discovers your dirty little secret. Dutch stomps over, grabs you by the hair, and throws you down in the center of camp. 

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t shoot you now!” he hollers as you try fruitlessly to fight him off. 

“Because Milton wants me dead just as much as you! And I didn’t ask to be a Pinkerton, my father forced me to.” 

“Lies! You’re the reason Hosea and Lenny are dead!” 

“Bullshit! I didn’t say a damn word about that to Milton! That was Micah, all Micah! Milton told me.” 

Micah walks up, smirking. “Really? And who do you think everyone here is going to believe?” 

Dutch throws you to the ground and Susan walks over, a shotgun in hand. By the look of her face, you know exactly what’s coming for you. No one steps up to defend you either, not that you can blame them. Your secret is the worst kind of betrayal. 

Without thinking, you stand up and run, smashing through the circle by pushing your way through Tilly and Jack. Shots fire out and somehow they miss. As you mount your horse, you dare one last look at Arthur. The look on his face breaks your heart. Dashing down the trail, you know what you’re going to do. 

*************************************  
Milton paces back and forth in front of you, pondering your proposal. “So… I have your word, miss, that you’ll give me Van der Linde?” 

“Yes. As long as you spare Arthur Morgan. And maybe John Marston and his wife and child.” 

“I get one life and you’re spared the lives of three degenerate murderers and criminals and their bastard child? No, you can pick one.” 

“Fine,” you say, your heart breaking. “Then Arthur. Give me your word you’ll spare Arthur and I’ll give you Dutch Van der Linde.” 

Milton gives you a sickening smile. “Deal.” You make him sign the contract you wrote up and then Ross signs it as a witness before you do as well. This way, Milton has no way to go back on your word and you take the paper. Sighing after resolving yourself to this complete betrayal, you tell Milton where Dutch is. Shortly afterwards, Milton leaves with his men and he orders you to stay put. 

The next few hours are nothing short of hell. Will Milton keep his word? Will he spare Arthur or will he bring back the news that he got killed in an “accident”? You can only imagine the rage Arthur will feel if and when he finds out what you’ve done, but you can only hope he understands why. Dutch has gone insane. He’s been on a suicide trail ever since Guarma and he’s taking everyone down with him. 

Finally, gratefully, the group of Pinkertons returns, but Milton isn’t with them. Ross explains that after Milton shot Dutch, the gang scattered and Milton was killed in the crossfire. When you ask about Arthur, he sneers. 

“You don’t have to worry about your poor choice in romance, miss. Mr. Morgan escaped without a scratch, just like we promised. I may have uh, let slip that you’re the reason why his devoted leader died.” 

Fuck. You were hoping he wouldn’t find out, but you’re not surprised. Ross is nearly as loathed as Milton was. 

“Very well. I held up my end of the deal. Now tell me where Arthur is and let me go.” 

Ross shrugs his shoulders and tells you that Arthur’s heading back west with some of the others who escaped. You quickly mount up and run in that direction, hoping to find him. After a few days of scouring and trailing, you find Arthur riding along with John, Abigail, Jack, Charles and Sadie. You scream his name and Arthur stops. 

When he sees you, Arthur looks beyond furious. As you approach, he whips out his gun and points it at you. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill ya where ya stand!” he roars. 

“Arthur! It’s… it’s me,” you say, tears streaking down your cheeks. “I didn’t want to, but I had to. To keep you alive.” 

“I saw Milton put a bullet through Dutch’s head. That was on you! If it weren’t for the fact that you and I were lovers, I’d be putting one through yours too.” 

“Are… are we not lovers anymore, Arthur?”

His face tells you that he could not be more disgusted by you. “You could have done anything else, Y/N. Anything! We coulda protected ya from Milton and his men. It ain’t like you were the only one hiding from the Pinkertons.” 

“I told you and you all threw me out! Hell, Susan tried to shoot me!” you scream, trying to make Arthur see why you did it. 

“You shoulda told me from the start! Instead, you lied to us, you betrayed us!” Arthur narrows his eyes. Sadie and John have pulled out their guns by this point, but he instructs them to put them away. “I loved you once, Y/N. I’m giving you this one chance to live. Now get outta my sight.” 

Your heart breaking, you turn your horse and run off. Arthur’s reaction is like a slap in the face. Of all people you thought might understand, you thought he would. 

However, you decide to try and learn from this mistake. Instead of heading home and to your father, you stay out west and become an outlaw. 

Years pass with no word from Arthur. Nothing would make you happier than to see him again, to apologize properly and wish him a true good bye, but you understand his desire to stay away from you. Word comes of a JM who bought a property called Beecher’s Hope outside of Blackwater and you have a suspicion it just might be John Marston, but you don’t visit. You choose to stay at Hanging Dog Ranch, running your own gang. They like calling themselves the Laramie Boys, which you don’t discourage. 

One afternoon, you’re sitting in the attic of the house on the ranch, planning to rob a train that will be coming through in the next week. The air is suddenly filled with gunfire, men shouting. You quickly grab your own guns and head out, fully aware that your ranch is being attacked.

Just as you hit the bottom of the stairs, the air goes silent. However, there’s a lingering feeling that someone is outside, waiting for you. After peaking out the window, your heart stops when you see who it is. 

Arthur stands there, a rifle in one hand. Standing next to him is John. Something tells you they aren’t here for a social call, but they also don’t know it’s you. With a heavy sigh, you open the door and walk out. 

John holds up his gun and points it at you, but Arthur looks shocked. 

“Hello, John. Arthur. You two look good. How’s Jack? Boy must be… what, fifteen?”

“We ain’t here to chat, Y/N,” John says. He gives Arthur a sympathetic look. 

Arthur sighs heavily and looks at you properly. “Y/N. Ten years ago, you betrayed us. You betrayed Dutch in order to save me. Your selfish deeds have been called in.” 

Your stomach drops when you realize what he means. “Arthur, why? You were happy to let me live before.” 

“I’m sorry. I wanted to let ya go, I really did. But… The Pinkertons weren’t satisfied.” 

“They have my family, Y/N. We were told to… to hunt down all our old gang members so I can get them back.” 

This doesn’t seem right to you. “John, I made a deal with those bastards. I gave them Dutch, and Arthur and I got to live.” 

“They see things different, Y/N,” Arthur says, his voice heavy. He doesn’t say it, but he still loves you. He was heartbroken when he found out what you did to get Dutch killed, but there were many times in the years following when he wanted to find you. After all, he knew Dutch was beyond saving and would have taken everyone down with him, but he didn’t want to see it then. 

You swallow, tears filling your eyes. “I see. Well, do what you must, friends. But don’t think that they won’t betray you as they’ve betrayed me. You think they won’t kill you both? You’re gang members too. They want us all dead.” 

“I can’t think about that, Y/N!” John shouts, almost desperate. “They have my family!” 

You hold your head high and look at Arthur. “Okay. Do me one favor though. I’ll make it easy.” You unhook your gun belt and let it fall. “My one request is that you do it, Arthur. I did the worst thing to you, and you deserve your revenge.” 

Arthur looks away, and then he looks back at you. “Don’t you remember what I told ya about revenge? It’s a fool’s game.” 

“Arthur. My family.” 

Arthur turns to him. “We can get them back still, Marston. After all, we got a former Pinkerton here. Something tells me she’s got some dirt she’d be happy to dig up on ‘em.” 

You smile. “Oh do I. If I told the agency the filth Milton did in order to meet his ends, they’d be shocked.” 

Arthur smiles and drops his gun. “Good. Then come with us, darlin’. We can protect ya.” 

You sigh and shake your head. “I don’t deserve it, Arthur. I’m the reason this all happened.” 

Arthur walks up and stops a few feet from you. “I know why you did it, darlin’. You didn’t have a choice. I didn’t see it that way before, but I’ve had enough time to see it for how it really was. Dutch would have killed us all, but you managed to only let him get killed and the rest of us got away. Not to mention the Wapiti. Who knows what trouble Dutch would’ve gotten them in to.” 

Before you can respond, Arthur’s arms are around you. He pulls you tight against him and you begin to sob. Only God knows how much you’ve missed him. John clears his throat and reminds you both that he has a family to save. 

“Sorry, Marston,” you say, wiping your eyes. “Now let’s go get your family.” 

With a new resolve, you walk back to the horses hand in hand with Arthur, determined to fight to the very death if you must to set things right. It seems a lot easier now that you have Arthur by your side. With him here, you could take on the entire world if you wanted to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your thoughts! I love talking to readers!


	103. Hamish's Daughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi! 😊 can you write fem!reader being Hamish's beautiful, helpful daughter who builds a bond with Arthur and later falls in love with him? She tells Hamish and he's supportive. On their last encounter Hamish tells Arthur to take both heartbroken reader and Buell with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be aware, this is nearly 20 pages. Again this is a request that could've been a multichapter fic.

“Hi, dad,” you say, walking into the small cabin, your arms stuffed with herbs you collected from the garden. 

“‘Lo,” he replied, walking over to the sink, his crutch holding him up in place of his leg. You’re used to him doing this every morning as his fake leg gets uncomfortable and he never sleeps with it on. 

“What are your plans today?” your father asks, pouring two cups of coffee. You tell him you want to take a ride out to town, pick up some supplies. “Valentine or Annesburg?” he asks as the cabin sits nearly halfway between the two towns. 

“Valentine,” you say. You’ve never been fond of Annesburg. Not that Valentine is much better, with the muddy streets that never dry and the sour people. At least the air there is clean. As a mining town, Annesburg’s air always makes it feel harder to breathe. 

“Take Buell then, will you?” your father asks after handing you your cup. “He could use the ride and I am going to work on fixing the shed out back.” 

You nod. You’d rather take your own mare, the cherry bay thoroughbred, as Buell can be temperamental, but you’re used to his disposition. 

After a quick breakfast, you get ready and head out, giving Buell his head. He prefers to canter along the trail which is something about him you like. He’s always had a lot of energy, even though it’s gotten your father into a spot of trouble every once in a while.

As Buell canters along, your mind wanders freely. Because you’re stuck in your head, you don’t notice the black bear standing in some bushes 20 feet off the path. Buell does though and he slows to a nervous walk and begins snorting and stomping his feet. 

“Buell, cut it out,” you say, coming back to the present. He rears a bit, still snorting, and a low growl catches your attention. That’s when you see the bear. “Buell, relax! It’s just a black one. If it were a grizzly, I’d be screaming with you.” 

You pat the horse’s neck, trying to calm him. Black bears are usually harmless, being smaller and more timid than their grizzly cousins. However, Buell panics more and he suddenly rears up, causing you to slide off, your butt slamming onto the hard earth. The bear turns and runs just as Buell darts off 

“Goddamn it, Buell!” you groan as you lie on your back. 

“Need help, ma’am?” a rough voice says as you sit up. Looking towards the speaker, you see a man astride a horse. The first thing you notice about him is his blue eyes and the hardened look of him. It’s clear from his skin, hair and clothes that he lives the majority of his life outdoors. 

You let out a frustrated sigh as you look at the state of yourself. Your left hip smarts as you stand and you look around, finding no sign of Buell. “Maybe,” you finally say to the man. “My father’s damn horse is a pain in the ass on the best of days.” 

“Yeah, think I saw him take off that way,” the man says. He reaches into his saddlebag and pulls out a lasso. “I’ll go get him. You wait here.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to-” you begin but the man takes off. Feeling stupid and helpless, you stand on the trail, your hands on your hips. 

Your father, Hamish Sinclair, raised you by himself after your mother died when she gave birth to you. Hamish made sure you were self sufficient, that you wouldn’t need anyone’s help to survive. One time when you were little, you asked him why he taught you to hunt, fish and forage when other girls your age were being taught how to knit, sew and clean. You can still recall what he said. 

“Those things are all fine and useful, but I ain’t gonna be around forever, and I ain’t gonna tell you to wait for some man to appear to do all this for ya when I’m gone. I want you to be able to take care of yourself.” 

You’ve always been grateful to your father for this. He’s also the best man you know. While he sometimes has his fits after suffering a nightmare containing memories of the war, he’s never been a danger to you. He was the best father you could ask for as a child, teaching you everything you’d need to know as an adult and providing you comfort and safety, and now that you’re an adult, he’s your best friend. You cannot count how many nights you’ve been out in his boat fishing or in the woods hunting down dinner. 

Before long, the man comes back with the lasso around Buell’s neck. “Got your horse,” he says. 

“Thank you, sir. I could’ve gotten him myself, you needn’t have gone to all this trouble.” 

“Ain’t no trouble, miss,” he says, removing the lasso. Buell shakes his head, calmed at this point. 

“Well, thank you. I don’t have anything to pay you with, but… perhaps I could take you to town and buy you a drink?” you say. Most women you know would never invite a man to accompany them alone to town, but your father made sure you could defend yourself. 

The man smiles a bit. “Sure, I was on my way to Valentine anyways.” 

You smile and mount up, perhaps a bit more gingerly than normal as your hip still throbs a bit. On the way to town, you and the man make some small talk. He’s friendly but clearly holding back when you ask him about what he does and where he’s from. When you look at him again and notice how heavily he’s armed, a voice in your head tells you he must be an outlaw, but you quickly brush that thought aside. Outlaws don’t come up this way much anymore as they’re a dying breed. 

Once in Valentine, the two of you hitch the horses outside the saloon and go inside. You pull out your money and buy two beers, one for yourself and one for the man. You take a sip and then look at him. 

“What’s your name?” he asks. 

“Y/N Sinclair. And you?” 

“Arthur. Arthur Morgan.” 

“Ah, the man with two first names,” you joke. 

“Excuse me?” he says.

“Nothin’. Nevermind.” Over the beers, you and Arthur talk more. One beer quickly turns into two, then three, and finally four. He becomes a bit more loose lipped as he drinks more, but still doesn’t tell you outright what he does. 

“I just ride with a big group. We don’t really stay in one place long. Ain’t never had the luxury, I guess.” 

“Sounds tough,” you say. “Not being able to plant your roots anywhere.”

“Maybe, but I like it. Ain’t never felt free being stuck in one place.” 

“Sounds like you never tried it long enough to really know,” you reply and he chuckles. You look outside by this time and see the sun’s nearly set. You still haven’t gone to the store. “Shit, I’m sorry, Arthur, but I gotta go. I meant to get some things and take them home. My father will be expecting me.” 

“Oh, well of course.” Arthur stands and tips his hat to you. “Well, thank ya for the drinks, ma’am. I hope I ain’t oversteppin’ bounds here, but… you’ll be safe ridin’ home?” 

You nod, feeling a warm sensation in your chest at the thought that this stranger was worried about your safety. Or maybe the sensation was just your tipsy state. “Yes, I’ll be fine.” 

“A’right, I believe ya. Um, well… would it be rude for me to ask when you’re comin’ to town again?” There’s a slight tinge of pink on his cheeks. As you look at him, you suddenly realize how handsome he is.

“Probably in a few days. Or I could just come and meet you here, have a proper round of drinks.” Okay, you really have had way too much to drink if you’re asking this guy in a not-so-subtle way on a date. 

He smiles though. “I’d like that.” 

“Then it’s settled.” 

A little while later, you leave the store. Arthur’s horse is long gone by this point, but you’re already excited to see him again. It’s been a long time since you met a man who had manners and respect for you with no expectations of any favors in return. 

When you get home (much later than you planned), Hamish doesn’t mention it. He’s used to you being out for long periods as you’re much like he says he used to be. Before he lost his leg, he was a wanderer as well. It was how he learned to hunt and fish. His lifestyle demanded it. For some reason, you don’t tell him about your meeting with Arthur. 

A few days later, you set off for Valentine again. Again you failed to tell Hamish the truth. You’re not sure why. It’s not like your father would be upset or irritating about it, telling you to be careful. He’s always encouraged you to make your own choices, but for some reason you just couldn’t get the words out. Maybe it’s because you don’t see the point of it. After all, this thing with Arthur is probably going to be very short-lived. 

When you meet Arthur in town, you feel your heart skip a beat. It makes you feel stupid as you think you’re like some ridiculous school girl. Arthur waves to you though from the porch of the saloon, a small smile on his face. He’s leaning his shoulder against one of the pillars and damn does he look good doing it. 

Once inside, the two of you grab a table and order a few rounds of drinks. To say you get carried away is an understatement. Before long, you’re a giggling, drunken mess. Arthur comes back from the bar, slopping down in the chair and chuckling. 

“Barman’s cuttin’ us off,” he says. 

“What? Why? That guy doesn’t ever turn off the tap for nobody.” 

“Well, let’s just say this ain’t my first time gettin’ plastered in his bar. I came in here some time ago with a friend and… well, I don’t really remember much of that night.” 

“Oh my God, I heard about that! Were you one of the fellas in the can-can line?” 

Arthur lets out a loud laugh. “Yes! I’m surprised ya heard about that!” 

“Yeah, the gunsmith told me!” 

Arthur smiles a bit. “I didn’t know you shopped at the gun store.” 

“Have to. After all, how am I supposed to live? Gotta catch my own food.” 

His eyes twinkle a bit. “Damn. You’re tougher than most women I known. Only women tough as you are the ones I run with.” 

“Oh? And what kinda people you run with?” 

Arthur’s clearly drunk because he tells you in a quiet tone that he runs with a gang. It consists of both men and women, and you think he mentions a small boy but you’re not sure as you’re pretty drunk yourself.

“Hmm. They sound like interesting people,” you say. “I wouldn’t mind meeting them.” 

He shakes his head. “No. No, if you don’t mind, I… I wanna keep you separate from them. The other day when you said I ain’t ever been in a place long enough to know the joys of it, that stuck with me. I… I might like to try that, and maybe ya can help me.” 

You blush and look down. “Perhaps. I wouldn’t mind that at all, Mr. Morgan.” 

His smile stretches and his hand suddenly slides over yours. Your skin burns where he touches you. Before you can stop yourself in your drunken state, you lean over and place your lips against his. He stiffens at your touch, but he doesn’t pull away. In fact, after a moment, he deepens the kiss, his free hand winding into your hair. 

Suddenly someone whistles loudly at you two, and you look over to see a man applauding the show you’re providing. 

“Let’s get outta here,” Arthur grunts in your ear. 

You take his hand and run outside, but you don’t go to the hotel. Arthur clearly wasn’t done with the kiss as he takes you to the side of the saloon, plants you against the wall, and kisses you hard. Your hands wind up in his hair, nearly knocking his hat off, and his hands slide over your back, pressing your body to his. 

As things progress and you can feel yourself slipping over some kind of threshold, you suddenly pull away, despite not wanting to. 

“Arthur, are we moving too fast?” 

He looks at you, his eyes surprisingly clear. “Maybe a little, but… damn Y/N, I find I’m really likin’ ya.” 

You blush and, oh lord did you just giggle? You’ve never giggled in your life. “I really like you too, Arthur,” you finally admit. He smiles and his lips crash to yours again. For the next few moments, the two of you makeout. Arthur presses your back against the wall and it’s only when you lift your leg to wrap around his waist that Arthur finally pulls away. 

“We better not get too carried away,” he says softly. 

You let out an almost disappointed breath, but he’s right. The last thing you need is to end up in a bed with him when he’s practically a stranger. 

“I’ll see ya soon?” he says softly and you nod. 

Tugging his collar a bit, you press yourself to him again. “I better.” You set a date and then Arthur gives you one last kiss before he walks away, leaving you flustered. 

**********************************************

Meeting up with Arthur in Valentine once or twice a week becomes a regular. It was only after a few more dates with him that you ended up sleeping together, and he performed wonderfully. The two of you had taken a stroll outside of town and it just sort of happened. After that, the walls still standing between you came tumbling down and Arthur told you the full truth about his lifestyle. 

Arthur would never tell you but he’s extremely grateful that you don’t hold his outlaw ways of life against him. He told you a bit about Mary and how poorly she treated him and looked down on him for it. Not long after that, Arthur told you about his son Isaac and how he’d died with his mother. It broke your heart, but you understood why he’d been hesitant to sleep with you the first few dates you had. 

You still haven’t told your father about Arthur, though you’re sure he suspects you’re up to something. You haven’t left the house so often for such long periods since you were a teen. However to his credit, Hamish says nothing. He’s always respected if you chose not to tell him something, even if he wanted to know. 

You can’t put your finger on why you still can’t tell your father about Arthur. The two of you have been together long enough that you’d like to introduce the two, but for some reason you just can’t bring yourself to tell Hamish. You’ve told Arthur a bit about your father, but he’s never pressed for further details. 

Things were getting quite serious between you and Arthur. He’s never introduced you to his gang, though not for lack of you wanting to. He said that there’s something about you that makes him want to dig in roots somewhere and maybe, just maybe, try for a more normal life. This highly flattered you when he admitted it, but you wouldn’t mind living with him. 

No one has ever made you feel this way before, or done the things Arthur’s done. You couldn’t count how many nights he’s asked you to lie under the stars and name them with him. The days you were without him became long and boring, and the time with him was too short but the best you’ve ever had. There’s no doubt about it. You love Arthur Morgan. 

The next date you set to meet him though, he didn’t appear. Nor did he show the night after, or the one after that. You wrote letters addressed to Tacitus Kilgore (upon his request), but they were never answered. Of course you know how much danger he’s in because of being an outlaw and being chased by Pinkertons. Thoughts of them catching up and killing him plagued your mind. 

You decided after the fourth week of no word from him to search. Unfortunately you had no idea where his hangout was, but you recalled him mentioning the swamps around Saint Dennis. You spent several days down in the swamps, searching for any sign of Arthur. You were out so long you knew Hamish would begin to worry, but you were worried about Arthur. Where the hell was he? 

You stumbled upon an old abandoned manor on the outskirts of the swamps called Shady Belle that had signs of being recently vacated, but nothing that definitely said Arthur was here. The only thing you found that made you suspect he may have been here was a letter addressed to “Uncle Tacitus”. It’s a unique enough name that you wondered, but there was nothing else. 

Finally you went to Saint Dennis, despite hating the town, and investigated. You heard about a gang that came through around the same time that Arthur missed your date, and things had gone badly. Two members had been killed, one arrested, and the rest vanished. It was suspected they managed to leave on a boat, but there was nothing that was sure. One thing was clear though: Arthur was long gone. 

It’s been three weeks since you left Saint Dennis. Hamish asked many questions upon your return but you couldn’t answer him. The thought of never seeing Arthur again was too devastating. You have no idea if he was one of the two members in the city that was killed, or if he was on a boat. Of course, the thought that he might still be in the states but decided you weren’t worth more of his time crossed your mind. That idea hurts the worst. 

The only thing you can think of doing now is to try and go on with your life as though you never met Arthur. That seems impossible though because, just before Arthur disappeared, he mentioned wanting to spend the rest of his life with you. You almost wish he’d never told you as it just makes the pain of losing him worse. 

Hamish has been a great comfort though. He respects your privacy enough that, even though he’s no idea what happened, he helps take care of you. On the days when you’re too miserable to barely even get out of bed, he takes care of your chores and brings you coffee. Somehow, he seems to know you lost someone you loved though. As you lie in bed, feeling miserable and exhausted, he sits down at the end after giving you coffee. 

“You know, after I lost your mother, I thought I’d never recover. There were more days than I care to remember when I just wanted to lie down and give up.” You look up at Hamish. He’s almost never spoken of your mother. He stares softly back at you. “But you were so young and dependent on me, you kept me going. If it wasn’t for you, I know I wouldn’t have made it. You’re much stronger than I’ve ever been though, so I know you can make it through anything. And no matter what happens, I’m here for you.” 

This makes you smile for the first time in days and you sit up to hug him. “Thanks, dad.” 

“Of course, baby.” 

*********************************************

A few days later, you return home to the cabin. Today’s the first day since you figured Arthur was gone for good that you’ve been out for a long time. The back of your horse is laden with pelts, as well as the carcass of a particularly large stag you killed. When you hang up the skins to dry and set down the carcass for Hamish to come and dress later, you head inside. 

“Hey, baby,” your father says in greeting. He’s pouring a glass of whiskey, which you know what that means. His leg’s bothering him more than usual. 

“You okay, dad?” 

“Oh yeah. Buell just took my damn leg again. Snake spooked him and he bucked me off.” 

“Again? How’d you manage to get your leg back?” you ask, knowing how immobile Hamish is without his wooden leg or crutch. 

“Some fella helped me out. He was real nice too. You might meet him, I invited him to come fish with me.” 

“Oh yeah? When?”   
“Probably in the next couple of days. Think you’d like him. Name was Arthur.” 

Your heart stops when you hear the name. “What was his name?” 

“Arthur. Arthur Morgan.” Hamish turns and looks at you standing rigid in the doorway. “What is it?” 

“His name… Arthur Morgan? He’s alive?” 

“Baby, what are you talkin’ about? Are you okay?” Hamish takes a step towards you when he notices the tears. The moment he does, you completely break down. He comes over and sits you down at the table. “Baby, what is wrong? Have you met Arthur?” 

“Met him? Dad, I… I planned to spend the rest of my life with him.” Finally you come clean to Hamish about your relationship with Arthur, and about why you’re so upset about hearing the name. “I thought he was dead, or he just changed his mind or something.” You put your head into your hands and sob. After a few moments, you look up at Hamish. “Dad, what am I supposed to do?” 

He sighs heavily. “Do you still love him? If you found out that he changed his mind, what would you do?” 

“Well, I’d wanna know why, but I hope that I’d respect him enough to let him go on. But I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving him, dad.” 

“I felt that way about your mother. Still do, matter of fact. Well, when he stops by to fish with me, you two can talk.” 

“Wait, does he know I’m here?” you ask, unsure if you’re afraid or hopeful. 

“Course not. I had no idea before now the two of you were acquainted.” 

For this, you’re grateful. Part of you thinks that if Arthur knew you were here, he’d never come here again. A few days pass and you’re sitting at the table, drinking coffee, when someone knocks on the door. 

“I’ll get it,” Hamish says. He hobbles over and opens it. “Arthur!” 

“Hello, Hamish. You said we could go fishin’?” 

“I did. However, I wanted to introduce you to someone first. Baby?” Hamish gestures for you. 

Fear grips your gut. Do you really want to see him knowing he could have easily abandoned you? You’ve no idea where he’s been all these weeks. Had he been lying when he said he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you? So many questions flit through your mind and your chest tightens, making you want to cry. 

“Come on, baby,” Hamish gestures for you again. With a resolved sigh, you walk over to the door. 

“Hello, Arthur,” you say quietly and finally dare to look up at him. 

You never thought you’d see Arthur looking the way he does now. Angry, perhaps, or scared, but not relieved and on the brink of tears. 

“Darlin’?” he says quietly. “Y/N, you… I been lookin’ everywhere for ya.” 

“So have I, Arthur.” Tears spill down your cheeks and you reach out for him. He quickly takes your hand in both of his before pulling you in for a tight hug. He holds your head to his chest, his heart drumming in your ears, and he kisses your head. 

“I’ll give you two a moment,” Hamish says and he slips outside through the backdoor. 

You and Arthur hold each other for a few moments, silently reconnecting before you pull away. 

“Arthur, where have you been? I don’t know how long I looked for you.” 

“I know, I know. I went to Valentine as soon as I got back, but no one there knew where you were.” 

“Got back? From where?” 

Arthur sits you down at the table and explains about the failed bank robbery and his trip to Guarma. “I don’t think I woulda lasted long down there,” he says, “it was nothin’ short of hell. But the thought of coming back to you kept me going.” He squeezes your hand affectionately. “I meant it, you know.” 

“What?” you say. 

“When I said I wanted to spend the rest of my life with ya. I still mean it, darlin’. If you’ll have me, that is.” 

“Of course I will, Arthur. I mean, hell you’ve already won over my father, and the two of you didn’t even know I was involved. That’s nearly impossible, by the way. My dad’s never liked any of my previous relationships, not that I blame him anymore. Most of them were… idiots.” 

Arthur grins and leans over to kiss you. You return it enthusiastically, feeling like a piece of you that’s been missing has finally been replaced. 

Hamish walks in shortly afterwards. “So, you two lovebirds ready to go fishin’?” You both nod and stand, heading outside and clambering into the boat. Hamish gives Arthur his spare lure and then Arthur rows the boat out into the middle of the lake. 

After a few hours and after watching your father get pulled into the lake by the monster pike he’s been hunting for three years, Arthur finally catches it and Hamish gets the pleasure of bashing the fish’s head in. 

Arthur rows the boat back to shore and he helps you out. His hand doesn’t leave yours as he walks you up to the cabin. 

“Well, that sure was some magnificent fish,” Arthur says to Hamish. 

“He sure was. Hey listen, you ever wanna go huntin’, stop by. I’m sure Y/N wouldn’t argue,” he gives you a wink. 

Arthur chuckles. “Sure, I’d like that. What you say, darlin’? Wanna go huntin’ with me and your ol’ man?” 

You smile and reach up to kiss him. “I’d love to, but… maybe you two boys can get to know each other better?” 

Arthur smiles and nods. “Okay. I’d like that, even though I’ll miss ya.” 

“Oh hush, Arthur, you’ll be seeing plenty of me.” 

Arthur gives you one last kiss and then bids farewell to Hamish before leaving. The moment he closes the door, Hamish walks over and puts his hand on your shoulder. 

“I’m real happy for ya, baby. Arthur seems to really love ya. I knew from the instant I met him he was a good man, and I can see he’ll make a good husband.” 

“Dad! He hasn’t even proposed.” 

Hamish looks at you with a sly smile. “Give it time, sweetheart. I reckon… two more weeks and he’ll ask me for your hand.” 

You roll your eyes and turn away to help Hamish with the fish. 

***************************

Over the next two weeks, Arthur stops by nearly everyday to see you. Sometimes he sits at the table and Hamish joins in, asking Arthur questions about his life. To your surprise, Arthur doesn’t hide anything about his past. When you asked him why, he said he wanted your father to know everything about the man who loved his daughter more than anything in the world. 

Your relationship with Arthur has fully rekindled and even grown. If you thought before his trip to Guarma that you’d like to spend the rest of your life with him, it’s become a need now. You have to be with him. Life without Arthur would be like someone telling you that you couldn’t breathe anymore. 

Arthur’s been much more romantic with you too. Now that he doesn’t have to hold any secrets, he has no barriers to worry about. Most days, he asks you to join him in a simple ride or a walk. One time, he’d visited when Hamish was out hunting, so he invited you to swim to the island and lie in the sun with him. You said yes, but when you were about to jump in, he prodded your shoulder. When you turned around, he was stark naked. 

“Arthur! I didn’t know you meant swim naked!” 

“Well of course, darlin’. Figured you and I could have some fun on that island.” 

You couldn’t help but blush but you stripped down to nothing and the two of you raced to the island. There, Arthur really showed you how much he missed you there. It was a day you’d never forget. 

The night comes when Arthur takes Hamish up on his offer to go hunting. Hamish heartily agrees and Arthur kisses you hard before the two of them leave. 

“Now don’t you worry, darlin’. I’ll bring your pa back in one piece.” 

“You better. Now make sure he comes back with two legs.” 

Arthur chuckles and as he walks out behind Hamish, you smack his ass. “Hey! None of that in front of your ol’ man!” 

You laugh and close the door. A few hours later, Hamish returns alone. 

“Where’s Arthur?” you ask. 

“Oh, he had to go take care of something with his gang,” Hamish says, but you notice he doesn’t really look at you. 

The next day, you wait for Arthur to visit, but he doesn’t. Nor does he come the next day or the next. You’re beginning to get nervous, wondering if he’s been in some incident like the one that led him to Guarma. Hamish senses your fears and he encourages you. 

“I’m sure he’ll be around shortly. He’s probably just busy. Sounds like his gang’s in a lot of trouble.” 

“I know. He’s been telling me how his leader Dutch has been losing his mind.” 

“Yes, but like I said, I’m sure he’ll be around shortly.” He gives you a suspicious wink. 

Just as Hamish predicted, the next day Arthur comes by. Hamish invites him in to see the wolf they encountered the night they went hunting. Arthur admires it for a moment, then he turns to you.

“Darlin’, will you come with me? Wanna take you somewhere.” You agree and the two of you mount your horses. He takes you up to Calumet Ravine near the Wapiti Reservation. He stands silently near you for a while at the north end of the lake to watch the sun begin to set, his hand curled around yours. 

He’s been standing so long, you begin to wonder what he’s planning. 

“Darlin’,” he finally says. “The end is coming for my family. My way of life.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“It’s Dutch. He’s… losin’ his mind. He seems to be on a suicide mission and plannin’ on takin’ as many of us with him as he can. So many people have left already, and I’d be surprised if more don’t end up doing the same.” He continues looking off towards the sunset. “My point is, darlin’, is my time with the gang is coming to an end. One way or another, this is nearly over. When that time comes, I’ll need somewhere to go. Maybe I’m being optimistic, but I was hopin’... Hopin’ I could try for a life with you. If you’ll have me.” 

Arthur finally turns to you and he reaches into his satchel, pulling out a tiny box. He opens it and reveals a small silver banded ring with a sapphire set into it. You gasp, but he continues. “Darlin’, I went with your father to do more than hunt the other night. I went to ask him for his permission to marry ya. So… Y/N Sinclair, will ya marry me?” 

You laugh and hug him. “Arthur, nothing would make me happier.” He holds you tight and you hear a faint chuckle rumble in his chest. 

“Thank ya for this, darlin’. Now let me put this on.” 

He pulls away and takes the ring out of the box and slides it onto your finger. After inspecting it, you reach up and kiss him. 

********************************************

The moment you got home from your ride with Arthur, Hamish demanded to see the ring. He spent longer than was necessary looking at it, though you knew he did it to unsettle Arthur, which made you laugh. 

“Dad, you can relax. It’s just a ring.” 

“Just making sure he did right by my baby girl.” He finally released your hand and smiled at both of you. “Well, I’m real proud of you both.” 

Only a few days later, both you and Hamish were awakened late in the night by distant sounds. They appeared to be gunshots and it was causing Hamish’s anxiety to spike. Your mind immediately turned to Arthur and that he was in trouble, but Hamish told you it was unlikely. A few hours later, however, someone knocked on the door. You opened it and revealed Arthur, looking horrible. He was beaten badly and the way he stood suggested he had injured ribs, maybe even broken.

“Arthur! What happened?” You grabbed his hand and dragged him inside, sitting him down gingerly in the chair. 

“Things… fell apart.” Hamish brought him a strong whiskey and Arthur told you both the events that led up to the gang completely falling apart. He ends it by telling about how the Pinkertons discovered the gang’s hideout. 

“It’s over. It’s all over,” he says miserably. “Everything I… I sacrificed everything for. None of it matters.” 

Arthur looks beyond devastated and it breaks your heart. Ignoring the fact that Hamish is watching, you lean down and press Arthur’s head into your chest, hugging him tightly. He sniffs loudly and clutches you so hard it almost hurts, but you say nothing. 

“Dutch, he… he let Micah trick him. He was rattin’ us out to the Pinkertons all along. He… he nearly killed me and Dutch just stood there and watched. I been with him for more than twenty years and Micah’s only been there for six goddamn months. It was like none it meant anythin’ to Dutch.” 

You stroke Arthur’s hair, trying to comfort and sooth him. “I’m so sorry, Arthur. I can only imagine how much you tried to prevent that from happening.” You let him cry for a moment into your shirt, and then you speak up again. “But I want you to know that you always have a place with me. 20 years from now, I’ll still be here right beside you. I just want you to know that.” 

Only now do you realize you’re also crying. After a few moments, Arthur releases you and gingerly stands up. He suddenly cups your cheek and strokes a stray tear. “Thank ya, darlin’. The best choice I ever made was to ask you to marry me.” He kisses you so gently, but behind it is all the emotion he feels. All the pain for his gang, but the gratitude he feels for you. 

Hamish clears his throat and the both of you look over at him, blushing a bit. He just laughs though. “Well, son, sounds like you’re in need of a family. You’re more than welcome to find one in me and my daughter.” 

“Thank you, Hamish,” Arthur says and he walks over to him and holds out his hand. Hamish takes it. 

“Honey, you look like you’ve been to hell and back,” you say, putting your hand on his shoulder. “Come on, you need to rest.” 

With that, you gently guide Arthur to your room and get him settled into your bed. You start to clean him up, dabbing at his face with a damp cloth to clear the dried blood. Afterwards, he looks some better. You then position him with some extra pillows to cushion his injured ribs. 

“Get some sleep,” you whisper and kiss his head. He suddenly grabs your hand. 

“Stay with me?” 

He looks so desperate, you can’t refuse, so you nod and climb under the covers with him and settle gently against his chest. His hand winds into your hair and he sighs. 

“Thank you, sweetheart. I love you more than you could know,” he says softly. 

“Well, if it’s as much as I love you, then I think I do know.” You kiss his neck and close your eyes. 

****************************************

A few weeks have passed and Arthur has healed well, both physically and mentally. The grief that came from his gang falling apart was extremely difficult for him to get over, but you did everything you could to help him. There were times he was unusually quiet, and other times when he was angry. You were patient though as you knew these were the steps he had to take in order to recover from his grief. 

Hamish was the best source of help to you in how to handle Arthur during the most difficult times as he acted the same way shortly after losing your mother. Arthur doesn’t tell you but he can never repay you for how patient and understanding you are. 

When he’s physically recovered to the point he can withstand going hunting and riding, Hamish suggests you both take Buell and go out and have a little trip. This turns out to be the best medicine Arthur could have gotten, going out into the wild and being alone with you. You both end up in Big Valley and spend over a week there. Arthur ends up sleeping with you a lot, but you don’t mind as you know it’s acting as an outlet for him, and that he wouldn’t be doing it if he didn’t have extremely strong feelings for you. 

He manages the physical demands of the trip well enough and by the time you get back, you’re both laden down with so many pelts and meat, Hamish says he won’t have to go hunting for six months. 

“Well, I’m glad the two of you are back. There’s been signs around of a huge boar and I found some cattle gored.” 

A few days later, Hamish spots the boar by the outhouse. He tells you and Arthur to grab your horse and follow him. You and Arthur ride your horse as Arthur’s died the night his gang fell apart. With Arthur riding behind, you track the boar up to a trail where Hamish loses it because it splits in two. He tells you to follow one path and he’ll take Arthur, so you direct your mare up the hill. 

“What is that?” Arthur says as something appears in the trees, lying on the ground. He dismounts and inspects it. “Damn boar’s goring wolves now!” 

Suddenly you hear gunshots on the next hill behind you. “Dad!” you scream, recognizing the sound of his gun. Arthur quickly jumps onto the back of your horse and you kick her into a canter. When the trail appears, you see Hamish and Buell being chased behind the hill by the boar, which is easily as big as a yearling buffalo. 

“Damn thing’s after him,” Arthur grunts as you call for Hamish. Slamming your heels into your mare’s sides, you gallop down the hill and behind the one Hamish vanished behind. Just as you round it, you hear him cry out. 

“Dad!” you cry. A second later, he comes into view. Hamish lies on the ground with a nervous Buell standing close by. You scream to him again and leap off your horse, running to him and kneeling by his side. 

“Damn boar got me when Buell threw me,” he grunts. You see a thick trickle of blood coming from his half-leg. 

“Dad! It’s okay, we’ll get you fixed up.” 

“Nah. Nah, baby it’s… it’s too bad for me. ‘Sides, if I had to choose a way to go out, it’d be this way. Doin’ the things I love with the people I care for most.” 

Arthur kneels down beside you, his hand on your back. “Hamish.” 

“Take care of her, Arthur. My girl’s tough, we both know that, but she needs something to keep her steady. Be there for her since I can’t be anymore.” 

“Dad!” you gasp, tears pouring from your eyes, your chest painfully tight. You reach out and take his hand, but he squeezes back gently. 

“It’s okay, baby. It’ll be okay. I’ll say hi to your mama. Do me a favor though. Take Buell with ya. You already know how stubborn he is, but he’ll do ya right.” 

“I promise, Hamish. We’ll make sure Buell stays with us and I’ll watch out for Y/N. I’ll make sure she’s happy.” 

Hamish smiles weakly, but his eyes are glazing over. “You’re a good man, Arthur Morgan. Thank you.” 

He lets out a long breath and then the light in his eyes go out. His hand in yours goes slack. A wail escapes your throat as the realization that your father’s dead hits you. Arthur wraps his arms around you, pressing you to his chest. 

Suddenly a piercing squeal whips through the air. Arthur bolts up and the two of you see the boar that killed Hamish. Rage floods through you, but Arthur pulls out his pistol. 

“This is for Hamish,” he growls. The boar roars and charges. Without hesitating, Arthur unloads his bullets and you watch as they plunge into its skull. Only inches from Hamish’s body, it collapses, barely missing Arthur. 

“Fucking thing,” you hiss and then you turn back to Hamish’s body. You stare at him, wishing, hoping that he’ll open his eyes or stir. “Dad? Dad, please. We got the thing. It’s dead.” 

You feel a weight on your shoulder. Arthur’s hand squeezes gently. “Come on, darlin’. We need to get him home, get him buried.” 

The thought breaks your heart even more and you can’t stand to think of putting him into the cold earth. Arthur seems to understand. He goes over to Buell and leads him over, talking to him gently. Then, with great care, he lifts Hamish’s body and drapes it over Buell’s back. 

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s just get your pa home.” His voice seems strained as he helps you stand up. He then starts giving you instructions, keeping them very simple. “We’re going to get on our horses, Y/N. Let’s take it slow, darlin’.” 

You listen and obey him mindlessly. Your thoughts are fogged and you’re not entirely sure what’s going on. All you know is you want to scream, to rip your chest open because it can’t contain this pain any further. 

When the two of you get home, you dismount and then instantly fall to your knees, sobbing. Arthur comes over and kneels down, taking you into his arms. “He was a good man, darlin’, and the best father. Most people don’t get that luxury.” You sob openly into his shirt, clinging to it so tight you’re surprised the fabric doesn’t tear. 

“Ya know,” Arthur continues, “for you to experience such pain means you were able to enjoy the best of times.” 

You look up at Arthur, barely able to see him through tears. “Promise me you’ll never leave me, Arthur.” 

“I promise,” he whispers and kisses your head. 

Afterwards, you manage to get the strength to stand up and Arthur helps you find a good spot to bury your father. You find it not far from the cabin by a patch of wildflowers. It’s where your mother is buried and you know he’d want to be buried here too. 

Arthur does the majority of the work to dig a suitable grave for Hamish. You help as much as you can, but you have to take several breaks as you’re overtaken by the pain. 

By the time the sun sets, Hamish is buried and Arthur sets down an engraved stone to mark it, declaring Hamish as a loving father and friend. It couldn’t be better. As you stand near the grave, silently crying, Arthur takes you in his arms again. 

“We’ll get through this, darlin’. You helped me when I lost my family, the least I can do is the same for you.”

“At least I haven’t lost all my family,” you sniff and snuggle a little closer to him. 

“I’ll never leave ya, sweetheart. I’ll always be here for ya.” He kisses your head again and the two of you stand silently. As the sky grows darker, you see a glimmer of hope in the thought that you have the rest of forever to spend with Arthur, the family you chose to have despite being deprived of the one you had before. Perhaps from here on, you can build a bigger one with him by your side. Hamish would want nothing more for you, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know your thoughts. Did you like it? Tell me why. Were there parts of it you had problems with? Tell me why!


	104. Reader takes care of Arthur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Arthur stumbles into camp all bloody and beat up. Reader takes care of him and takes over his responsibilities for a while. She is bitter towards Dutch who sent him on the job in the first place. PS I love your writing 🥺

Arthur winces in pain as he rides his horse up to camp. He hasn’t been this sore in a long time, but at least this time he knows he has you for him to lean on (figuratively speaking). As his horse trots along, he bends down and pats her neck, feeling grateful for his loyal steed. She’s often been his sole companion as he’s been out wandering. 

Soon Arthur looks up and he sees the trees that mark Horseshoe Overlook and he lets out a deep breath. His knee twinges painfully, a result of his bad step and then having to hold it against the saddle in an awkward angle. His ribs are tender as well, and he’s got a long gash that stretches down from his shoulder to nearly his elbow. However, it’s the deep knife wound in his lower abdomen that’s got him worried and in the most pain. He just hopes it doesn’t look as awful as it feels. 

Just as he rides into camp, you look up from your chores and smile the moment your eyes meet him. He’s been gone a while, at least four days. You’ve been getting worried. Dutch sent him out north of Valentine to investigate leads on a bank stage being sent down to Valentine from Annesburg.

You begin walking over to him, wanting to greet him from his trip, but the moment he steps down from the saddle, you know something’s wrong. He’s holding himself differently, he limps when he puts weight on his left knee (though he tries to hide it). His hand is on his ribs as though they hurt and there’s a long, bloodied rip in his shirt sleeve. You gasp when you see the bloody spot on his torso though. 

“Arthur!” you say, jogging over to him. “Honey, what happened?” 

“Oh nothin’ I couldn’t handle, darlin’,” he says, putting an arm over your shoulders to bring you in for a hug. 

“Arthur,” you say in an almost scolding manner, “I really wish you wouldn’t do this to me. I know you well enough to know when you’re injured. Come on.” 

You start leading him over to your shared tent. To do so, you have to pass Dutch’s tent, and of course the man himself is standing outside of it, smoking a cigar. He sees you and Arthur limping past. 

“Arthur. Arthur, what happened?” he says. 

Arthur squeezes your shoulders with his arm, signaling you to stop. “Nothin’ too bad, Dutch.” 

“What about the stage, son? Did you find out anything with it?” 

“Damn your stage, Dutch!” you snarl, surprising yourself. It’s not often you get after Dutch. “Can’t you see Arthur’s injured? He needs attention and rest. Can’t you give him that much for five damn minutes?” 

“I just thought-“

“You just thought that Arthur here, my Arthur, can take anything and he’s never at risk, is that right? You just think that Arthur here is an invincible being, that he can take on any kind of danger. Well he ain’t, Dutch, so lay off him for now. You can worry about your stupid stage when I’m done.” 

Without waiting for him to reply, you walk Arthur the small distance over to your tent. Once there, you make him sit down on the cot and reach into the chest to find some bandages and something to wrap his knee in. 

“You coulda done that smoother with Dutch, couldn’t you, darlin’?” 

“I don’t care, Arthur,” you say, not looking up. “That man…. Cares more about making money than any of us here.” 

“That ain’t true.” 

“Yes it is, Arthur. He’s just good at pretending. But I see it, Arthur. Maybe it’s because I’ve only been running with you all for a year, or I’m just good at reading people. But trust me, Arthur. Dutch is a very greedy man.” 

“Darlin’, that ain’t fair. He’s just tryin’ to look out for all of us, give us a good life. You can’t do that with no money.” 

“No, but think about it, Arthur. Anyone who looks at you can tell you’re hurt. Yet the first thing he talks to you about is that stupid stagecoach. Not ‘Arthur, let’s get you patched up’ or anything like that.”

He goes on to try and argue more, but you put your hand on his lips. “I’m going to take care of you, Arthur. Now shut up and let me.” 

“Fine,” he growls (though he secretly loves the attention). You smile, knowing exactly how he feels. 

You remove his shirt first, to which he questions, but you tell him you’ve no intention of any funny business. You suck in your breath when you see the knife wound. It’s deep and bleeding profusely. Arthur lies down after you tell him to and you run off to get Strauss’s medical kit. When you get back, Grimshaw’s standing in your place, giving Arthur a stern talking to. 

“Always comin’ back ripped to pieces,” she scolds. You stifle a giggle as you can see Arthur looking quite bashful. You put a hand on her shoulder.

“I got this, Susan.” 

She huffs and walks out. When she’s gone, you turn to Arthur and let out a small laugh. “Grimshaw gave you an earful, huh?” 

“Yeah, but it’s how she shows she cares, I guess. Well, at least you’re takin’ care of me, not her.” 

“Oh no trust me, Arthur, I intend on giving you a talking to as well.” 

Of course you don’t come anywhere near as nasty as Grimshaw can get, but you still tell Arthur that he needs to be more careful as you set up the kit and pull out a bottle of whiskey. You pour a little of it on the knife wound and he grunts sharply. 

“I know, honey, I’m sorry. Tell me what happened while I get this stitched up.”

As you ready the sutures, Arthur talks about how he figured out the most likely route a stage would come down and he waited. It wasn’t hard and the stage itself was easy enough to stop. Arthur was quick enough to take down most of the men guarding it, but there was one that was just fast enough to charge him, slice his arm and then thrust the blade into his gut.

“So what happened with your knee and ribs? You got some good bruises here,” you say, running your fingers gingerly over the darkening spots on his ribs. 

“Ah, the guy punched me before he sliced me up. My knee, well, when I was runnin’ around shootin’ the fellers, I stepped into a hole.”

You grin when you see goosebumps rising over his skin from where you touch him. Tempted to go further, you decide instead to go back to stitching him up. You soon tie off the thread and pour a bit more whiskey on the wound to give it an extra cleaning. Arthur winces again, to which you apologize again. 

After bandaging up the knife wound, his arm (which isn’t very deep luckily), and wrapping his knee, you demand Arthur be on bedrest for a day or two. When he starts to argue, saying there’s work to be done, you override him. 

“I don’t care, Mr. Morgan! You’ve got to take care of yourself! I don’t care how big and tough you think you are, you can’t run forever. Especially on this knee. Now please… just listen to me and get some rest. Then in a few days, maybe… maybe you and I can go off and have some fun.” 

Arthur gives you a small smirk but he nods his head and lays down. You can tell he really does need to rest. There’s dark circles under his eyes from lack of good sleep and the knife wound does worry you. 

With the promise of the two of you going off into the wild to hunt and enjoy one another’s company, Arthur soon falls asleep. You stay by his side, watching his chest rise and fall. Then you take his hat into your hands, studying the firm, aged leather. You love his hat. It’s undeniably him. 

After setting it back on the table, you lean over and give Arthur a kiss, despite him still sleeping. Lord only knows how much you adore this man. You just hope he listens to what you said the other day about him not collecting anymore debts for Strauss. For some reason, you have a bad feeling when you think about it. Perhaps you’ll talk to him about it again when he’s awake. In the meantime, you lean back in your chair, your hand resting on his, your eyes gazing softly at the man you want to spend the rest of your life with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is the my bread and butter! Help me eat!


	105. Love Triangle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: Hello. This happened to me not too long ago, it's drama fueled lol. Can you write Mary and fem reader being best friends? Reader tells Mary, her feelings she has for Arthur and do the whole girl code but Mary breaks it and betrays reader? Reader is hurt by it but later discovers, Arthur wants her. Kind of like a love triangle thing?

You look up from the dough you're kneading, glancing at your friend. She looks up at you and smiles a bit, to which you return. You'd heard that she was in the area for a while and you decided to visit, and shortly afterwards she recommended the two of you bake. 

"I can't remember the last time we got together to bake something," you say.

"I know," she agrees. "Must've been a few years at least." 

Mary looks up at you and smiles again, bringing over the spices to add to the dough. 

Mary was your best friend growing up. Although she's certainly a city girl and you're more on the rugged side, the two of you got along famously. Unfortunately when you hit the later years of your teens, some events occurred that caused you to leave the town the two of you lived in. You didn't see each other for a few years after that.

Then, about ten years ago, you bumped into one another in Blackwater. You were visiting there and it turned out she was too. She told you her family moved to Saint Dennis, a town you've never liked, but you promised to make an effort to visit her. Every few months, you'd drop into that foul city to visit.

It was a few weeks ago you'd received the letter from her stating she was in Valentine for a while. Something to do that concerned her brother, it seemed. You were already in the area, and that's how you ended up here. 

"You know, that outdoorsy style has always suited you," she says, "but don't you think you could've cleaned yourself up a bit?" 

You look down at yourself. Sure, your clothes aren't new and there's a few places you've patched them yourself. Your hair and skin show undeniable signs of being out in the sun for long periods of time. Don't even get started on the condition of your nails. 

"I washed up before I came, Mary," you say in a somewhat sardonic tone. "Besides, when was the last time you cared about my looks?" 

Mary shakes her head a bit. "I just thought… maybe you'd be interested in looking a bit more like a woman, that's all." 

You raise your lip a bit. That city life has not done Mary any favors, that much is for sure. It doesn't help that she has a rich daddy, neither. She was better as a kid, more accepting and more open to the idea that not everyone wanted to live a city life. But as she's grown older, she's clearly changed. 

"Maybe I never cared for wearing dresses, Mary, or putting my hair up in a stupid bun with some stupid bow. Maybe because I don't mind living as a part of the world as it is rather than trying to control it."

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry. I just thought maybe you'd be open to the idea, I wasn't trying to suggest anything."

You glower at her a bit before turning back to the dough you're shaping, detecting the lie. Ten years ago, when you'd reunited with Mary, she'd started to change. She began to look down at people who lived a more wild life than she did. Something told you perhaps she had a personal reason behind it, but you never bothered to really ask. 

"So why you up in Valentine then?" you say. "Town of mud and horse shit, thought you'd avoid this place like the plague." 

“I told you. It’s… it’s my brother.” 

“So what’s Jamie up to now then?” you ask, recalling Mary’s little brother. You’ve never seen a boy with more optimism than him. 

Mary doesn’t say anything for a moment, but then she opens up. “Some religious man talked to him back home and convinced him to join. Last I heard, they were up this way. But these people, the Chelonians, they’re known for being quite mad. I’m afraid he’ll end up getting hurt or worse.” 

You look up at her, feeling sad. “I wish there was something I could do to help,” you admit. 

“Thank you, but I’m afraid there really isn’t. I just hope… well, nevermind.” 

She quickly changes the subject, clearly not wanting to go on. You let her. When the day gets later, you bid her goodbye and head off.

Instead of heading home, however, you decide to go and do some hunting. You’re in need of some fresh meat, the butcher in Valentine always gives you a good price for hides. You’ve been trading with him for years. 

After going up into Cumberland Forest, you pick up signs of a deer. You begin tracking it, keeping an ear out for any sounds from the woods. It’s a good thing because after only a few moments, you hear the sound of something big breathing rapidly, can practically feel its hot breath. Looking up over the thick clump of bushes you’re in, you see the heavy body of a wolf, its nose pointed into the wind. He’s picked up your scent. 

A low, chilling howl escapes his lips and the wolf is on you. As you begin to run, you hear the howl picked up by other dogs not far away. The hunter has become the hunted. 

You’ve delt with wolves in the past. The trick is to get to a place they can’t reach you and take down enough of them to put them off their prey. However, they’re far closer to you than you are to a good high point. Your blood pounds in your ears as you run, desperate to get away. The wolf who first scented you snaps at your heels, but his jaws close on air. 

Just as the wolf lunges again, the air suddenly explodes and the wolf yelps and drops dead. You stop and the other wolves whimper and run off, their alpha dead. Looking around, you see a man astride a horse, reloading a double-barrel shotgun. 

“You a’right, ma’am?” he asks. He’s got a rough voice and his eyes are partially hidden beneath his hat. 

“Yes,” you say. “Damn thing missed me. Thank you though.” 

“Course. You have a way to get home?” 

You nod and turn to whistle for your horse, but she’s bolted in fear of the wolves. “Well I did have a way home.” 

He huffs a small laugh. “Maybe I can help ya. What she look like?” 

You tell the man about your horse, so he trots off to help look for her. You try looking for her as well, but he finds her much quicker. As he brings her back, you stoop down and begin to skin the dead wolf. 

The man watches you for a second and you feel his eyes watching your hands. You look up and see him staring at you.

“What? You never seen a woman skin a wolf before?” 

He chuckles and leans down, his arms settling on the horn of his saddle. “No, course I have. Just… ain’t all that common, I s’pose. Wha’s your name?” 

When you introduce yourself, he smiles. “I’m Arthur. Arthur Morgan. So, you from around here?” 

“When I feel like it,” you smile, blushing a bit. You’ve just recognized how attractive he is. “I, uh, don’t really have a home. Guess I just don’t really care for the idea of staying in one place for too long.” 

He smiles a bit wider. “Think I know what ya mean. Well, lemme walk ya home at least.” 

You agree and throw the wolf’s pelt over your horse’s rear. On the way back to Valentine, you and Arthur talk and you find yourself feeling very interested in him. When you ask him about his background, he’s vague and mysterious, further intriguing you. 

Once in town, he stops outside the saloon where you dismount. Before you walk off, he stops you. 

“Ma’am, I uh hope I ain’t bein’ forward, but… while you’re callin’ this place home, may I see you again?”

You blush but grin up at him. “I’d like that, Mr. Morgan. Something tells me you have your own stories about wolf hunting.” 

“That I do, miss. Well, take care.” He salutes you with two fingers casually and then walks off. 

Over the next few days, you ask around town to see if anyone knows anything about this Arthur Morgan. As far as anyone knows, however, he’s a newcomer. Never been in the area. He got in a fight at the saloon and beat old Tommy so bad he hasn’t been the same way since. Other than a few other little scrapes, there’s no other information about him. 

As time goes on, you start seeing more and more of Arthur Morgan. Sometimes you happen to bump into him in town, other times he comes to find you since you told him the general area you’re staying in for now. Things are heating up between you both though, and you cannot deny you’re developing feelings for him. 

One afternoon, you go to Mary’s house again. She’d asked you a few days ago to come and visit, so here you are. When you walk into the house she’s staying at, the first person you see is not Mary nor the homeowner (Mary’s aunt), but Jamie. 

“Holy shit, is that you, Jamie?” you say. “Been years since I seen you!” 

Jamie grins and walks over to give you a hug. All the memories of him pulling jokes when you and Mary were teenagers to make you laugh come flooding back. In many ways, he was almost like your little brother back in those days. 

He greets you warmly but then you remember he’s the reason Mary’s up here in the first place. However it would feel rude to ask him what he was up to with his religious friends, so you keep your mouth shut. When Mary’s shown up and Jamie’s headed off to town, you confront her. 

“Oh, I had a… a friend help me out to get Jamie back,” she admits hesitantly. 

“A friend? I wasn’t aware you had other friends up here.” 

“Well… I don’t know if I would really call him my friend. We… he and I, we… I…” she puts her hand over her eyes. “I don’t really know how to explain it.” 

“Well, you don’t gotta. I mean, I know you have other friends. Guess it’s not unusual for any of them to make their way up here.” 

She gives you a grateful smile, then you suddenly remember Arthur. “Oh, I have to tell you about this man I met. I think… I think he might ask me to be his girlfriend soon.” 

“Oh? I’d love to hear about him!” Mary says excitedly. She leads you into the kitchen so she can make some coffee for you both. As she prepares it, you start to talk about him. 

“He saved me from some wolves. He’s this really handsome guy, but not in that city way. He’s real rugged, clearly lived in the wild probably most his life. Got the prettiest blue eyes I ever seen. I’m pretty sure he’s a bounty hunter or…” you look around to make sure Jamie isn’t back and lower your voice, “I thought he might be an outlaw at one point. I don’t know, he just strikes me as bein’ one of them kinda fellas.” 

Mary suddenly drops the mug she was holding and it shatters. “An… an outlaw with blue eyes you say?” 

“Y-yeah. What the hell, Mary, why’d you drop your mug?” 

“What’s his name? This man?” Mary looks at you with such an intensity it stops you. 

“Arthur.” 

“Morgan?” she says. 

“You… you know him?” 

Mary clasps her hands. “He’s the friend I was talkin’ about. He went and got Jamie from those Chelonians for me. He and I… we… when we were younger, he and I were… together. He even proposed to me but I just couldn’t live his lifestyle. He is an outlaw, y/n, and my daddy didn’t like him.” 

You feel as though you’ve been punched in the gut. “You were engaged to Arthur?” 

She wrings her hand and bites her lip. “He was the only person I know who was scary enough to frighten those people into giving me my brother back, and he did. I… hated asking him. He can be very violent when he gets angry.” 

You swallow hard. “He never hurt you, did he?” You pray for a certain answer. 

“No. But… when we were together, one of the reasons I left him was because he got so drunk he ended up beating a man nearly to death. He got arrested and I think one of his fellow outlaws busted him out. I’d seen part of the fight and it frightened me, seein’ him like that.” 

You lower your head, feeling like she’s describing a different person. The Arthur you know is a gentleman. Rough around the edges, sure, but not a coldblooded killer who revels in violence. It can’t be true. As you’re trying to process what Mary’s saying, she suddenly takes your hand in both of hers. 

“Promise me somethin’. Promise me you won’t get involved with him. It nearly broke my heart to leave him, I couldn’t bear the pain of seein’ my best friend and my ex-fiance get together. If the shoe were on the other foot, I’d do the same for you.” 

The weight of what she’s asking slams into you like a train, but you nod. “Of course. I’ll… tell him something, make him forget about me. I won’t betray your trust, Mary.” 

She smiles and lets out a sigh, then hugs you. In your ear, she whispers, “Thank you.” 

***********************************************

It’s been a few weeks since you’ve seen Arthur, and the pain of losing him is still fresh and raw. It nearly shattered you to tell him the lie, that you’d gotten into a relationship with another man. However, he was sweet and understanding, though clearly hurt. It took all your strength to not take it back and admit the truth, but you also felt a duty to protect Mary. 

She has been grateful that you chose her over Arthur. However, her behavior since then has changed slightly. For reasons she wouldn’t disclose to you, she lengthened her stay in Valentine rather than going back to Saint Dennis with Jamie. She chose to stay here with her aunt and when you asked, she flustered a bit but then said that she knew how much you hated the city and she wasn’t ready to say goodbye. 

That excuse didn’t match up though. You started trying to make more of an effort to visit her, but it was becoming more frequent for you to arrive at her aunt’s house only to be told that Mary was out and it wasn’t known when she’d return. Not only that, but on the occasions you did see her, she acted more distracted and made up excuses to leave early. She also frequently asked if you were still seeing Arthur Morgan, to which you honestly replied with no.

You walk down the main street of Valentine, feeling slightly bummed. You dreamt of Arthur last night. Nothing unusual, but just of being with him. The idea of what could have been constantly haunts you, and you have to remind yourself every time of the promises you made to your friend. 

As a way to try and alleviate the longing, you went to go see Mary, but of course she wasn’t home. Her aunt said she was out yet again. What in the world is that girl up to? She’s always been a home body, yet she’s constantly out nowadays. 

When you get close to the church, you look up and see a familiar figure. It’s Mary. Her back is to you and she seems to be talking to someone who is behind the church. Something tells you by the way she gestures with her hands that they’re having more than a mild conversation. 

You begin to approach her, wondering who she’s talking to, but as you get closer, the person steps out. It’s Arthur. What the hell is he doing here? Mary made it sound like she wasn’t going to associate with him anymore either. What is going on?

You duck down and creep over to the church, wanting to hear what they’re saying. Their words wash over your ears. 

“I wasn’t good enough for ya then, Mary, why would that be different now?” That’s Arthur. 

“I was different then, Arthur. I’ve changed my mind.” 

“Didn’t seem that way when you begged me to fetch Jamie for ya.” 

“I’m sorry. I was scared because I know I treated ya bad. You asked me for a second chance and I denied you all them years ago. Will you do me the favor of giving me one?” 

You peak over the fence and see the two standing close together. Arthur’s looking at the dirt and Mary’s staring at him, her eyes hopeful. You suddenly realize why she asked you not to get closer to him. That bitch!

“You! You fucking brat!” you scream and stand up before you can stop yourself. Mary jumps and Arthur’s eyes immediately land on you, his hand resting on his gun. You partially recognize that he was preparing to shoot a potential threat, but you don’t care. You hop the fence and march over to Mary before jabbing a finger into her face. 

“Goddamn it, Mary Gillis! This is why you fucking asked me to do this! You wanted Arthur for yourself!” 

Her face is white and her eyes dart from you to Arthur. 

“Y/N?” Arthur says, planting a hand on your shoulder to try and calm you. “What’s goin’ on? I thought you were with another feller?” Even now, you can hear the hurt tone in his voice. 

“I lied about that, Arthur. I lied for her!” Tears flood your eyes as you glare at the person you thought was your friend. 

“I didn’t… It wasn’t like that,” she says. 

“Bullshit! You heard that I was thinking of getting involved with your ex-partner and that made him more desirable than ever! You just had to have him, didn’t you?” 

You’re crying at this point, wanting to scream Mary but also wanting to hit her. 

“Wait, how do you two know each other?” Arthur asks, standing between you and Mary as though sensing you’re going to start throwing punches. 

Mary’s shoulders sag and she spills. You notice she glosses over a few parts but you’re quick to correct her. By the end of it, Arthur looks disgusted. He turns to you and puts his hands on your shoulders, trying to comfort you as you sob. 

“I’m sorry,” Mary says. “I just… I didn’t mean to hurt you, Y/N. But when I met up with Arthur to get Jamie, I… felt things I hadn’t felt in a long time. Then I heard you were interested and I did the worst thing I coulda done. I’m sorry.” 

Arthur whips around suddenly. “Now you’re lyin’ to both of us, Mary. When you talked to me after gettin’ your damn brother, you made it very obvious you weren’t tryin’ for a second chance. You straight up told me that I’d never change, and because of that I’d never be good enough for you. Don’t you dare lie to your friend or to me like that!” 

Mary takes a step back, clearly frightened. That’s when you sidestep Arthur and stand in front of her, your lower lip quivering. “If I hadn’t been here to compete with you, Mary, you would’ve let Arthur walk away. But because I was interested in your ex boyfriend, all of a sudden it was a competition. Fuck. You.”

You spit at Mary’s feet and walk away, not wanting anything to do with her anymore. After all you’ve done for her, after everything you believed of her, it all seems to be nothing. Hell, you were the one who introduced her to Barry (something you regretted as he was truly an idiot). Plus there was that time Jamie almost got swindled into giving that one snake oil man money when he claimed he could make a fail-safe love concoction and you were the only one who could talk sense into Jamie. Mary never thanked you for that either. 

Then along comes Arthur, the first man you started to feel some real things for, and Mary just couldn’t let you be happy with him. Not when she had a past with him. The only thing you can feel is betrayal. 

As you walk away, letting the tears slip down your face, you suddenly feel someone walking beside you. When you look up, you see Arthur. You both stop and he turns to face you. 

“Darlin’, did you mean it? When you said you lied about that other feller?” 

“Of course, Arthur. I haven’t had another man in years. I only lied because telling the truth at the time was too hard and I didn’t want to complicate things. God, I could kick myself.” 

He looks over to where Mary’s still standing then back to you. Before you have a chance to react, he takes you in his arms and holds you tight against his chest. From across the road, you hear Mary burst into tears. 

“Arthur,” you mumble into his shirt. He’s very warm beneath it. God, it feels good to be in his arms. “You didn’t do that just to make her mad, did you?” 

“Well, maybe a little,” he says and you can feel him smile as he rests his lips against your forehead. “She’s the last person I want. But mostly I did this because I’m so relieved. When you lied about havin’ another feller, I felt my heart break. Now it feels whole again.” 

He holds you for a few more seconds and then pulls away. You look up at him, feeling like the tiny bubble of hope in your chest is deflating. “So what are you going to do about Mary?” 

“What about her?” he asks. “Trust me, I don’t want her, darlin’. I weren’t good enough for her when we was kids, or at least that’s what she said. I hadn’t even done half the shit I done now and I still wasn’t good enough for her. Besides, she always had a gift for makin’ me feel like shit about myself. Pulled my strings into doin’ things I didn’t wanna do.” 

“She said she saw you get into a fight with a man, you almost killed him. Said you were drunk, sure, but still…” 

Arthur huffs. “Yeah, you wanna know why I got in a fight with that guy? It’s cause she made me think he was tryin’ to get sweet on her. She convinced me to fight him. Found out in the mornin’ he was just recently married and definitely was not interested in her. Think she just likes the drama.” 

You smile a bit and take his hand. “That much seems clear. Don’t know why I didn’t see it until now.” 

“You got your reasons. It can be hard to see the red flags comin’ from people you care about. But, darlin’, I wanna try for somethin’ with you. No Mary. No drama. Just you and me.” 

As you look up at him, you smile. “I’d love that, Arthur.” 

He returns your smile and bends down to kiss you. His lips are soft, warm and slightly chapped. As he kisses you, a rush of excitement grips you and you pull away, draping your arms over his shoulders. 

“So… are you really an outlaw?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love talking to readers! Tell me all your thoughts!


	106. You are not alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn't a request. Rather the events (aside from what happens with Arthur sadly) are based on events that happened in my life. Guess you can call this a therapy piece. That said, trigger warning for parental abuse.

You lie in bed, not really wanting to face the day. The idea of staying in bed all day and doing nothing is tempting. That familiar ball of nothing sits like a weight on your chest. This void inside you seems as deep and fathomless as the universe itself. It doesn’t feel good. 

You know why you’re feeling this way. How could you not after everything that happened with those people you used to call family? Everything’s blown up so quickly. There was almost no warning to it either. 

You’re also confused. Why are you so hurt to be abandoned by those people who hurt you for so long? Your father, that abusive bastard who never earned the title of “dad”. His words still echo in your head, the words “I want you gone, I don’t want you here”. When he’d screamed those words, it unburied so much hurt you’ve kept locked away for over 15 years. Things you never told anybody about, things you yourself barely remembered until recently. 

Then there’s your mother. Not nearly as abusive, but just as guilty. That pointless conversation she had with you a few days back did nothing but show that she’d seen your father’s abusive tendencies long before you were even born and she did nothing about it. Admitting now that she should have done better back then does nothing to erase the pain. Damn them both. Damn this whole scenario!

Of course, the fight that led to this situation has been overdue by several years. You’ve seen it coming for a long time, you just hadn’t been aware of it happening so quickly, and in such a bad place. You’d been on your vacation with your parents, visiting a lake you’ve loved since childhood. Because of certain situations and acts done by your parents (though you know your hands aren’t clean either), the fight broke out and the result is that you have now been estranged by both your parents. 

The situation is so complex and you don’t know how to feel. Anger, sure. Resentment, of course. Betrayal. You also want your parents to admit that they hurt you during your childhood and you’re damaged because of it, but you also know they won’t. Especially your father. He’s under the impression he was a wonderful dad, despite the fact that most days as a child, you hid for fear of his abuse. How can you hate them so much yet still want them as part of your life? 

There’s a sudden knock on your front door. Who the hell is calling at this time of day? Sure, the sun’s up, but it’s Sunday morning. Why would anyone be at your door? 

With a heavy sigh, you force yourself to get out of bed. You tidy yourself up enough to not look ghastly. Maybe it’s just the Amazon guy dropping off a package (though you don’t remember ordering anything within the last 2 weeks). 

When you open the door, you’re surprised to see your neighbor and good friend (not to mention the guy you’ve been crushing on forever) Arthur Morgan. He smiles when he sees you. 

“Hey, hope I didn’t wake ya.” 

“No, you’re fine,” you say, forcing yourself to smile. “I’ve been up a while anyways.” 

“Okay. This is gonna sound silly, but would you have two eggs to spare? I, uh, started makin’ myself some breakfast and realized I didn’t have any.” 

“Oh, of course! Here, let me grab them for you.” 

Arthur walks in the house after you. As you go into the kitchen, he looks around. Though your house is usually quite tidy, he can see there’s been a lack of care to it. Dust rests on your shelves, your TV. Your couch shows signs of not having been used in days. There’s also a smell that suggests the house has been empty, but as your neighbor and friend, he knows you’ve been home everyday. He’s been in your house often enough to know that it isn’t usually like this. 

Not only does it not look right, it doesn’t feel right. There’s a heaviness in the air, almost like a shadow sits over the house. He gets the feeling it’s stemming from you. 

Now that he thinks about it, he has barely seen you in the past 3 weeks. Pretty much ever since you came back from your vacation. You’d asked him before leaving to watch your house and feed your cat, which he did. But now that you’re home, he’s hardly seen you. Again, this is strange as the two of you are fairly close. 

Before your vacation, you’d watch movies together every Friday night. When you came back, you didn’t invite him over and when he invited you, he got responses that suggested you had other plans. 

“Here you go,” you say, walking out of the kitchen and holding out two eggs. He reaches for your hand, but then doesn’t let go. 

“Why don’t you come and have breakfast with me?” he says, his eyes soft. “You look like you could use some company.” 

You look up at him. You’ve wanted to see your friend for a while, ever since you came back. However, if your father made anything clear, it was that if he didn’t want you around, then no one did. 

“I… I don’t know, Arthur. I don’t want to be a bother.” 

“You ain’t gonna bother me, Y/N. Never have. Y’know, I been missin’ our Friday movie nights.” 

His comment makes you look away from him. “No, you don’t, Arthur.” 

He squeezes your hand a bit, then he lowers his head so he can look you in the eye. “You okay? You been different ever since you came back from that lake. Somethin’ happen up there?” 

Arthur’s the first person to point out that you’re not how you used to be, and his acknowledgement of that is what finally breaks you. Tears well up in your eyes and you cannot bear to look him in the face, feeling pathetic. 

“To… to be honest, a lot happened. Most of it wasn’t good.” 

A brief silence passes, then he squeezes your hand again. “Come have breakfast, darlin’. Looks like you could use a friend. I’ll cook for ya and you can talk about it.” 

At first, you think he just wants to hear some gossip, but when you look in his eyes, you can see he’s genuinely worried. So you nod and grab a couple more eggs and follow him out and over to his house. 

Arthur’s house is about the same size as yours. He’s more simple than you are, and being raised on a farm out west, he decorates like so. There’s a big painting of a horse over his couch which you’ve always liked. You peak in his office and see the large stag’s head hanging from the wall. 

In the kitchen, Arthur makes you a cup of coffee and then begins breakfast. As you sit at the table, your hands wrapped around the warm mug (which has a beautiful design of an elk), he gets some bacon cooking. 

When a few strips are sizzling away, Arthur sits down across from you. “So… tell me about this vacation of yours.” 

Arthur doesn’t say a word as you begin talking. First you start out with how you had bad feelings right before you went on vacation, but you attributed them to other aspects in your life. 

“It was like a part of me knew something bad was gonna happen,” you say. You’re shivering a little (something you always do when talking about a deeply personal thing). Arthur gently takes your hand in his to comfort you. It does help and you go on. 

You tell him about how things started to build up. Things started off with your mom. When you voiced your problems with her to your father, stating they made you want to leave early, he said if it felt right to you that you should leave, but then he suggested you talk with your mom first and try to resolve things. 

“The problem with that is these issues I’ve had with my mom have been going on for well over ten years. I’ve been nearing the end of my tether for ages.” 

Arthur nods and prompts you to go on. The talk with your mother you thought went well, but not twenty minutes after, she was doing the same things you said were causing the issue. Things escalated from there with not just your mother, but your father going and doing the same things that have been causing all these problems. They were doing a few things that suggested they’d heard you, but when push came to shove, they went no further. 

“On Thursday night, we went to this one place at the lake to try and fish. When I finished there, I realized that I was just done. I wasn’t angry or resentful, I was just ready to come home.” 

Arthur nods and you notice he squeezes your hand a little. With that, you go on to say how the very next morning, you packed up your things and as you loaded up the car, your mother came bustling over, clearly upset, and accused you of ruining her vacation. She laid on the guilt hard. 

However, your father has always had a habit. When your mother gets upset, your father gets angry and he has an excellent way of making the person who hurt his wife feel like less than shit. He pulled out all the stops for you. Not only did he accuse you of being intolerant and inpatient, but he wouldn’t let you stand up for yourself. When you tried to, he put you down, stating you were an intolerant, selfish little brat and he wanted nothing to do with you. 

“What about your mama?” Arthur asks gently. “Surely she didn’t want things goin’ that badly?” 

You roll your watery eyes and look away. “My mom did what she does best. She just stood there and listened to him, not saying a fucking thing. She sat there and watched as my father essentially chased me out of there.”

Arthur lowers his head and sighs. “I’m real sorry, Y/N.” 

“That wasn’t it,” you say and then you go into explaining how your father’s verbal abuse uncovered a bunch of memories from when you were a child. Memories of your father verbally and even physically abusing you. Things you’d forgotten and sat on for over 15 years. They all came bubbling back up as you drove home, sobbing. Along with them came the emotions. The fear, the confusion, the anger and the hatred. 

“So…” Arthur says, dishing the food onto plates and handing you one. “That was, what… two weeks ago? Have either your ma or pa said anything?” 

You sniff a little and shake your head. “Well… my mom did. She came over and we talked for two hours. Honestly the stuff she said made the abuse from my father even worse, because she basically told me she’s known about his abusive tendencies longer than I’ve even been alive for and has let him do them. When I asked her why she didn’t stop him that day I left the lake, she said she was focusing more on what was going on in her head. Honestly I think that was a lie. I think she’s just as scared of my father as I was as a kid.” 

Arthur looks down. “That’s bad business, darlin’. Had no idea your daddy was so awful.” 

“Me too. I guess I worked hard to forget all that bullshit he did to me as a kid.” 

“Guess so. Did your mama try talkin’ ya into forgivin’ him?” 

You shake your head and sniff again. “No. No, she didn’t make excuses for him, but she tried gaslighting me. Said I should focus on the 80% that’s good and focus less on the 20% that’s bad. But when I think about it, there was no good when I was a kid. All he did was get angry at me. We didn’t start to have a civil relationship until I was just graduating college. And I don’t know, but in my opinion going to Yellowstone when I was 23 and having a good time doesn’t count.” 

“It don’t. Your daddy betrayed you when he hurt you all them times. He made a promise to protect you when he became your father and he broke up. Not only that, but your mama betrayed you too when she just stood by and watched him do those things.” 

You start crying again, letting the tears slip down your cheeks. Arthur stands up and cleans up the dishes (you didn’t eat very much, but he understands). When he walks back over the table, he comes over to your side and holds out his hand. 

“Come on, sweetheart. I know you’re probably feelin’ confused and hurt that even though your parents were abusive and did a lot of damage, it must be difficult to have lost them. Come here.” 

When you’re standing, he pulls you into a hug. Arthur’s only hugged you once. He’d gotten drunk during a movie night and had hugged you when he said goodbye. It was then that you’d developed your crush on him.

You press yourself into the hug, his heart thumping in your heart, calm and steady. Your body molds perfectly against his, like a puzzle piece. His arms wind around you, creating a protective barrier as you settle your forehead into the crook of his neck. 

As his heat seeps into you, all the emotions you’ve been mulling over come, only there’s a new one. Support. Arthur is the first person who not only showed any concern, but also showed any interest in wanting to help you. You feel his thumb rubbing circles on your lower back. 

After a few moments, Arthur leans away just a bit so he can look at you. “Y/N, can I tell you somethin’?” You nod and he goes on. “Even though you lost your family, I want ya to know this. I care about ya. Cared about ya a long time. When the two men who raised me passed away and I came out here, I had no one. But you reached out to me, made me feel like I wasn’t alone. I’m gonna do the same thing for you.” 

This makes you smile for the first time in days. “Thank you, Arthur. I couldn’t ask for more.” 

He smiles and then his hand comes up to cup your cheek. As you stare at him, his eyes flicker down to your lips. Is he thinking about you the same way you think about him?

“Arthur?” you whisper. 

He responds by leaning down and gently placing his lips on yours. Your heart feels like it’s going to leap out of your chest as you sink into the kiss. His breath washes over your face and his hand moves up your back. After a moment, he pulls away, his cheeks pink. 

“I, uh, hope that was okay,” he says softly. 

You smile a bit. “I would give it a better word than that, Arthur. Thank you.” 

Arthur’s lips stretch into a wide grin and then they’re on yours again. “I’m gonna always be here for ya, darlin’,” he says after another moment. “You ain’t as alone as your parents want ya to think.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what y'all think! I love talking to my readers.


	107. Scary Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur's voice.- " Hey there!" Can we have some fun times in camp? I loved the last one and wanted more. Everyone is gathered around the campfire and tells each other ghost stories. Arthur feels a little playful that he wants to scare fem reader to death. He and Lenny set up a plan to do so and when the time's right, he appears from behind. Reader screams and goes to kick his ass (not literally though.) She catches him and teases him by saying he won't be getting any sex tonight.

You look around you at the other faces, illuminated by the fire. These people, whom have been called degenerates and even worse, are your family, and you couldn’t be happier with this strange bunch. Your eyes wander around the circle until they land on your favorite of all them. Arthur Morgan. 

He’s staring into the fire, his eyes distant and faraway as he listens to Reverend talking about Prometheus. You watch as Arthur raises his bottle and takes a swig from it. That’s when he turns his head and sees you staring at him. 

“What?” he mumbles. 

“Nothin’,” you say, wrapping your hands around his arm and leaning in to rest your head on his forearm. “Just happy to be here with you.” 

He chuckles so softly that only you can hear him and you know he’s blushing. He always gets flustered when you openly show your affections towards him in camp. Not that you blame him, with the way Sean, Lenny and John like to tease him. For being such a strong, tough man, Arthur can be sensitive. 

Reverend finishes talking about how he compares his own pleight to Prometheus’s and sits down, clearly drunk. He’s not the only one. Looking around at the other faces, you can tell most of them have been drinking too. This break has been sorely needed. Being chased down here to Rhodes so shortly after fleeing Blackwater has not been easy on anyone. Then Arthur and a few others went and robbed the Valentine bank, boosting everyone’s spirits a bit. 

The sun sets properly, though the horizon still blazes gold and red. With the trees shaded in black and the soft lapping from the lake, the camp takes on an almost eerie look. Mary-Beth plops down on the other side of you, looking around at the others. 

“Is it me or does anyone else notice there’s somethin’ strange about that Rhodes?” 

“No, it’s not just you, my dear,” Hosea says from his rickety chair. “The further I dig into those two families, the stranger it gets.” 

“I heard there was a curse placed on it,” says Lenny. “Somethin’ about a slave tryin’ to escape and bein’ captured. Put a curse on both those families just before he died. I tried talkin’ to some of the colored folk down there, but none of ‘em wanted to say nothin’.” 

“I don’t like it down there,” you admit, leaning up a bit. “Place gives me the creeps.”

Tilly gets a certain light in her eye that lets you know she’s going to tell a good story. “I heard an interestin’ one last time I was in town. About a farmer and a scarecrow.” 

“That sounds stupid,” Bill growls. 

“Oh really? Well why don’t you just be quiet and listen up!” Tilly snaps. Everyone does because every person in camp knows Tilly’s the best at telling a good spooky story. Even Bill knows that, he’s just been extra sour these past few weeks. Tilly clears her throat and begins. 

“About fifty years ago, this land was hit by a real bad drought. So bad that all the crops were dryin’ out, cows stopped milkin’, and chickens stopped layin’. This drought went on for months, so long that people were leavin’ in droves or just straight up dyin’. Things had never been so bad.

“There was a farmer in the Scarlett Meadows, not too far from here. He was hit just as hard by this drought, but he refused to leave and was too stubborn to die. He was doin’ the best he could, but his cows were all dyin’, he could barely get any of his crops to stay alive. 

“Then, about four months into the drought when things looked their worst, his wife got sick and died. The farmer, who was desperate and sad before, got angry. He went and saw a voodoo priest who lived in the swamps outside Saint Denis and asked for help. The priest gave him a necklace made of bones and told the farmer to put it on somethin’ that looked human, give that thing something from his own body and mutter some special words over that thing durin’ a full moon. This object, whatever it was that the farmer chose, would make sure that the farmer would no longer suffer. 

“The farmer, so desperate and crazy with grief, took the priest’s advice. He didn’t listen to the priest when he told him that the object would demand a sacrifice every year with the end of the rain. 

“When the farmer got home, he tried thinkin’ of somethin’ that looked like a human. He had a statue of Jesus but felt that would be blasphemous. He thought about his daughter’s baby doll, even though she died when she was a young child many years ago, he didn’t want to destroy the only thing he had left of her. He was growin’ desperate again when he looked out the window of his home and saw a scarecrow held up over his dead field. 

“So the farmer waited for a night when the sky was clear and the moon full. He cut off his own hair and sewed it onto the scarecrow’s head under its had, and then he put the necklace on it and muttered the words the priest said.”

Tilly stands up, imitating a strange walk. “Before the farmer’s eyes, the scarecrow came to life and hopped off his standin’ stick. It walked around, surveying the field with its empty eye sockets and turned to the farmer. That was when he suddenly remembered the priest sayin’ somethin’ about a sacrifice. The scarecrow told him what he had to do. 

The farmer, bein’ afraid of this scarecrow and not knowin’ how to remove the magic, went into town that same night. He went to the saloon and found an old drunk layin’ outside. He slit the man’s throat and dragged him back to his farm, to the scarecrow. He then went into his home and sat in bed all night, unable to sleep for shock at what he’d done. But when he looked out his window in the mornin’, he saw that his field was rich and full, the crops were green and their bounties fat. The scarecrow was sat on its stick yet again, completely motionless. However, the farmer noticed that it was fatter, as though it had just eaten a great big meal.” 

Tilly sits down again, her voice growing quieter. “The drought lasted only a few more days after the farmer brought the scarecrow his meal, and then the rains came. The farmer never saw the scarecrow move, so after a few months he figured he’d made it all up. No one even noticed the old drunk he’d killed was missing. 

“But the next year, drought came again. Once again the farmer’s crops were dyin’, his new cows stopped milkin’ and his chickens stopped layin’. On a night when the moon was full, the farmer was gettin’ ready for bed. He looked out the window and saw the scarecrow starin’ at him, standin’ in the middle of his dead field. Once again he told the farmer what he had to do. Still bein’ afraid of the scarecrow, the farmer found a lonesome traveler and brought him back for the scarecrow. A few days after, the rains came. 

“Feelin’ horrible with grief, the farmer went back to the priest and begged him to help him remove the magic from the scarecrow, for he knew now that in order to save himself from drought and starvation, he’d have to murder a person every year for the scarecrow to feast upon. He’d rather die himself than kill another person. But the priest said that once the magic was imbued, it could not be undone, for the magic made the scarecrow alive, but not alive in the same sense as men are. The priest had warned the farmer, and the farmer had not listened. 

“So every year after that, when the drought hits and the crops start dyin’, the farmer will grab a person and bring it to his scarecrow. A few days after, the rains will come. Folk say that after the farmer had done this for a few years, he started likin’ it. That just before the dry season, he’d select a person who was fat for him to take to the scarecrow. 

“Some folk in town say this is all nonsense, just an old wives tail. Others aren’t too sure because there is an old farm in Scarlett Meadows and the farmer died a few years back. Folk in town say that when the farmer died, the scarecrow disappeared and now the droughts can last for months without any rain. Some also say he never died because the scarecrow kept him alive.” 

Tilly clears her throat, finishing the story. A momentary silence goes around the circle. There’s a spooky feeling in the air. 

Bill is the first to break it. “I think it’s all nonsense.” It’s clear though that he was freaked out by the story, he’s acting a bit more jumpy than usual. 

Conversation soon begins to pick up after this, leading to more people telling scary stories. Tilly tells another particularly good one about a ghost in an old house that really freaks you out. Arthur chuckles when you jump at the ending, draping his arm around you. That’s when he gets an idea. 

“Lenny, son, come help me bring over another box of booze,” he says, standing up. 

“No, Arthur, I think we’re done here,” Hosea says, standing up. “Or I am at least. Going to call it a night.” 

With Hosea’s departure, most of the others get up and start heading to their beds as well. You do, too, feeling a little glad that story time is over. You like scary stories, but only so many at a time before you get too creeped out. 

Before going to bed though, you decide to go over to Pearson’s wagon to get a drink of water. After that, you look over to the horses and decide to go say good night to your mare before turning in, as you do every night. 

Just as you reach the horses and stretch out your hand to pet her neck, you hear what sounds like a whisper coming from the thick, dark trees just beyond camp. Feeling a bit creeped out still, you peer into the trees. Is it Kieran maybe? However, when you look at where Kieran usually sleeps, you see him passed out. Definitely isn’t him. The whispering continues. 

“Hello,” you say softly. 

The whispering continues. It gets just a bit louder, you can almost make out what it’s saying. Curiosity overrides your desire to run, so you wander closer to the trees. The whispering gets quiet again. Then suddenly it says, “who is that? Someone’s coming.” 

“You there!” you say to the trees. “You shouldn’t be here!”

“I was here before you,” the whispering says. The voice fades in and out. 

“Where are you? Show yourself!” 

“I’m everywhere, and nowhere. But most of all, I’m…” 

“Here!” a loud voice suddenly says in your ear as strong arms clutch you and lift you up so your toes just barely leave the ground. You let out a loud shriek, your heart feeling like it’s going to leap out of your chest. 

Laughter erupts as you realize the person who grabbed you was Arthur. Lenny steps out from the trees, his dark complexion and black duster coat allowed him to hide in their shadows. 

“Arthur Morgan! Put me down! Son of a bitch!” 

“Who you callin’ son of a bitch?” he chuckles and lowers you down to the ground. 

“You! Who else would I… you’re such a jackass!” You turn around and smack his shoulder while he guffaws. 

Lenny walks over and puts a hand on your shoulder. “Always know you’re up for a good laugh, Y/N.” 

“Go away, Lenny. I’ll be kicking your ass after I kick his!” You point to Arthur. Lenny just chuckles and walks away. 

Arthur grins at you, his eyes bright. “Awe come on now, darlin’. It was all in good fun.” 

“Arthur, I don’t enjoy nearly pissing myself! That wasn’t funny” you say, trying not to grin. 

He snickers and tries pulling you in for a hug, but you’re having none of it. “No, no. You don’t get that. You don’t get none of this!” you say and gesture towards your body.

“Oh, darlin’, come on! I’ll make it up to ya, promise!”

“Nope!” you say and walk away, making sure to wiggle your ass to taunt him. You hear him groan and you feel smug about it. 

When Arthur lays down, you decide to take it a bit further. You start pulling moves that you know will get him hard and excited, then when things are almost boiling, you say good night, roll over and pretend to fall asleep. The exasperated grunt coming from Arthur nearly makes you break out into giggles. 

“Damn woman,” you hear him mutter, which almost breaks your resolve again. 

In the morning, just as Arthur’s beginning to stir, you roll over and gently wake him with a kiss. His arm winds up to wrap around you and he lets out a heavy sigh. 

“Mornin’, beautiful,” he says. “Still mad about last night?” 

“Always,” you say and kiss him again. This time though, you slide your body onto his, straddling his waist. He lets out a hungry groan and you feel him pressing up into you. 

“Thought you said no sex?” he grunts softly. 

“I said no sex last night. I didn’t say anything about this morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what y'all think! Like my work? Tell me. Don't like my work? Tell me! It's the criticisms that make me a better writer!


	108. Cherry Pie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So could you write a modern Arthur, where he got the key to Reader's house recently. Then he found the reader（his girlfriend）has the habbit of sleeping in her birthdaysuit.her body is such a meal and he happily takes her. I just wanna give Arthur a treat 💞

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is nothing but pure smut. Absolutely NSFW

Arthur parks his truck outside your house, feeling slightly worried about you. The two of you have been texting all morning, then suddenly you went silent. You texted him a little over an hour ago stating you were getting in the shower, but then you never texted back. You never take this long in a shower, he thinks. Being naturally protective, he started to get worried. He silently gave you a time to text back by before he drove to your house. That time went by with nothing, hence why he’s here. 

He texts you again, stating he’s outside. Nothing. He then calls you. Still nothing. “A’right, tha’s it,” he says and gets out of his truck. He pulls out his keys, double checking that the one you recently gave him is still there. 

After unlocking and opening the door, he looks around. You’re not in the living room or the kitchen. He searches a bit and then sees your bedroom door is partially closed, so he opens it and his eyes immediately widen. 

You’re asleep and completely nude, lying on top of the sheets except for a corner of your bedspread trailing over your stomach. Your hair is slightly damp, signalling you did in fact take a shower. Perhaps you came in here and passed out afterwards. 

Arthur knows he should look away, this is an invasion of your privacy. He can’t though. You’re just too beautiful. A crack in your curtains allows the sun to stream in, striking up a streak across your chest. One of your nipples glistens in the light, stiff and perky. His eyes trail down your stomach and between your legs. His tongue flicks out to moisten his lips as he feels himself stiffening. 

Despite the knowledge that he should not be in this room without your knowledge, he walks further in. He’s only seen you naked twice. However, both of those encounters were in dark rooms as you were shy. You’re definitely not being shy now, lying on your back and completely exposed. Those times he’d made love to you before, he had desperately wanted to see you, but he didn’t want to push you. Now here you are, inches from his fingertips. 

Arthur’s eyes wander around your bed and he suddenly sees something just barely poking out from beneath the sheet. He lifts it and sees a personal pleasure toy. Had you been using it right after the shower? You must have. He wonders if you’d been thinking of him while enjoying the pleasures of the toy. He likes to think so. 

He suddenly realizes that you’d still be wet from your self-pleasuring and the thought drives even more desire through him. As he stands and continues to examine your delicious body, he can feel himself straining through his jeans, begging to be released. 

Unable to hold himself back, Arthur kneels onto your bed next to you, being gentle enough to not wake you up. He watches your chest rise and fall with your breathing, his eyes raking over your nipples. He licks his lips again. 

As though his body is tired of waiting for him to make a decision, his hands suddenly reach out and envelope your breasts. He sighs, enjoying the way they smoosh beneath his grip. He lets them go and watches them bounce back into shape, the nipples even perkier from the stimulation of his touch. You sigh in your sleep, but don’t move. 

Feeling more confident, he gently pinches your nipples, loving the way they stiffen even more in his fingers. Then he bends down and takes one into his mouth. Nothing is more pleasurable than to feel you in his mouth, to taste your skin and suck on the stiff nub of your breast. He sucks more and more, enjoying the act.

You shift a little in your sleep, a small groan escaping your throat. His lips suddenly leave your nipple and he examines your face, waiting for you to wake up. He knows that your breasts are an excellent form of foreplay as you’re incredibly sensitive there. However, you settle right back down into sleep. 

Arthur suddenly gets a wicked idea. How far can he push you before you finally wake up? 

With that idea, Arthur slides his hand from your breast and down your body as slow as he can. He smiles when he sees the goosebumps on your skin erupting beneath his fingers. You’re obviously subconsciously aware of him. 

Finally his fingers reach the patch of hair between your legs. He runs his fingers through the hair, enjoying it. Then he feels your slit. Oh, you’re wet alright, and it’s fresh. Despite your slumber, you must know there’s something sexual going on. He presses his fingers into your slit, stroking your clit and then drawing over your opening. You sigh heavily again, as though you enjoy it. 

With a grin on his face, Arthur rubs you more and more, making you even more wet. Still though, you’re not waking up. This encourages him, and he removes his fingers and places his hands on your thighs, spreading them. After lifting your knees up to spread your folds more, he gazes at your exposed slit. God, you could not look more delicious than you do at this moment. 

After glancing at your face one last time to see if you’re responding at all, Arthur dives down beneath your legs. He uses his tongue to slip into your folds, tasting how very wet you are. Once he reaches your clit, he begins to suck. God, he’s been wanting to do this. The last two times you’d had sex, he’d wanted to do this. Just the knowledge that he could get you to come for him is one of the greatest honors, but he wanted to prove he could get you to come with no penetration. However, you’d been shy about it and had gotten incredibly embarrassed, so he didn’t. Now though, he’s got you pinned and he’s pleasantly sucking away. 

Arthur feels the heat emanating from your slit and thighs growing. You’re so turned on by this, he can tell, so he keeps on sucking and licking. Little does he know, you’re dreaming of him. You’d been dreaming of him even before he’d come into your home. The two of you had been doing nothing of any real importance, then you’d dreamt that you’d spilled something on your breast. 

In your dream, you’d taken your shirt off to dry off your breast, allowing Arthur to see you. Now your dream self is lying on her back and there’s a strange but pleasant and hot sensation between your legs. It’s vibrating your clit. Shit, you’ve never been turned on this much in your sleep. Even in your slumber, you feel the bubble signalling that you’re about to orgasm grows in your stomach. 

That bubble suddenly travels down to your clit and just as your eyes open, it bursts. You let out a guttural moan as your toes curl. Your hips lift and your eyes roll back. Damm, you’ve never orgasmed from a dream before. Wet dreams? Sure, you’ve had those, but never one intense enough to make you come. 

As your orgasm begins to fade, you realize that the sensations you’d been feeling between your legs in your dream are still here, only they’re more intense. You also feel something gently tugging at your clit. Your eyes go down and you see Arthur, his face between your legs. His eyes meet yours and you can see his cheeks lift as he grins at you. 

“Arthur…?” you say, but he responds by licking your clit again before he lifts his head. 

“Hey, darlin’. Hope you don’t mind.” He explains he was worried when you didn’t answer and then he saw you lying like this. “I just wanted to show ya how sexy I think you are.” 

“Oh! I, uh… that was a pleasant surprise. Almost a shame I missed the beginning of it.” 

He lifts himself up a bit and smiles. “You ain’t mad, are ya? I, uh, didn’t really ask for permission.” 

You smile and reach down to stroke his cheek. “I don’t mind at all, babe. To be honest, I was trying to take care of myself and I was using you to get me there. This is infinitely better.” 

He smiles and kisses your palm. “That’s good, darlin’. So…. you say you’re sad you missed the beginning?” 

You smile and nod a bit. 

“Well, then. Let’s rewind this.” Arthur suddenly dives right back down to between your legs to taste you. 

“Oh God,” you say, collapsing back onto the bed. Your hands come up to play with your breasts since Arthur’s hands are preoccupied with your knees and his tongue with your clit. The stimulation on so much of your body is too much and it’s only moments until you’re howling his name. God, if you’d known that oral could be this good, you would’ve accepted Arthur’s previous offers. 

Arthur lifts himself up and wipes his chin dry. “Good girl,” he growls. 

You smile back at him. “Well, come on, big boy. Let me exchange the favor.” You grab him and flip him down onto his back before ripping his shirt open. He’s taken by surprise and hasn’t had the chance to move before you’re licking his nipple. He sighs and then his hand goes down to his bulge, undoes his pants, and releases his stiff cock. 

Just as he does, you leave his chest and begin sucking on his erection. He takes in a sharp breath, he’d not been expecting you to do this. Your lips slide up and down his shaft as you bob up and down, then you slide him out enough that you can just suck on his tip. 

“Shit, darlin’,” he growls as his hands tangle into your hair. With hardly a warning, he suddenly explodes just as you slip him out of your mouth, watching him stream up into the air. 

“Damn,” he says as he comes down. “That was amazin’, darlin’.” 

You smile and reach up to kiss his lips, not caring that you can taste yourself. Before long, the two of you are fully fucking with him burying himself into your center, plowing deep and hard into you. None of your sexual encounters amount to this one, and you’ll definitely be feeling it later. 

Just as Arthur’s getting close again, he dips his fingers into your slit and squeezes your clit. As he rolls it between his fingers, you come so suddenly that you feel an eruption of liquid escape from you. Only a second after, you yelp sharply and he squeezes your clit again. 

“Come on, girl, do it again.” 

Fuck, you’ve never squirted before, and now Arthur’s trying to get you to do it again. He bucks hard into you, spreading your walls and brushing your spot. His fingers tickle and pinch your clit. The entire bed is moving with the force of his thrusts. Just as he squeezes you again, your back arches, your hips lift, toes curl. One of his hands comes up and tickles your nipple. Fuck, fuck fuck! With his cock brushing your spot, his fingers pulling on the nub in your slit and his other hand squeezing your nipple, you feel another release of moisture between your legs. 

“Arthur!” 

Your brain is completely fogged by the overstimulation, but Arthur finally releases your nub and your clit. He begins focusing on chasing his own high and doesn’t last long before he shoots his seed deep inside of you. 

“Ah,” he growls, “good girl. You’re a’right.” He then plops down onto the bed next to you and invites you in to cuddle and you take it, collapsing down onto his chest. 

“Arthur,” you mumble, feeling tired. “Promise me that’ll happen again.” 

“I guarantee it, darlin’.” He kisses your head, his arms wrapped around you. “Now, how about we get another shower goin’?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what y'all think! I love talking to readers!


	109. Mrs. Kilgore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm not sure if you know, but Sadies does in fact call herself as Mrs. Kilgore if you follow her to the store during the mission Further Questions of Female Suffrage. Reader discovers jealousy here and misunderstood everything, that she abandons the mission by running back to camp and avoids Arthur and Sadie when they come back. It's against the rules to abandon gang members but she doesn't care. Writer's choice on how to end this.

The wagon bumps down the road, away from Clemens Point. You sit in the back of it, watching the trees go by. In front sits Sadie, the widow from Colter. Recently she’s really come into her own. Before she was a mourning, sobbing mess who could barely lift a cup due to the funk she was in. You won’t soon forget the day Karen stopped her from trying to shoot herself. Now Sadie’s starting to grow confident and sure of herself. This morning, you were sure she’d kill Mr. Pearson. 

Next to her sits Arthur, your good friend and the man you’ve been crushing on for ages. Out of everyone in camp, you trust him the most. He’s the one you’ve always been able to count on, to confide in. For the first few years in the gang, the two of you were just friends, hunting partners. Then just before Blackwater, something changed. Even you’re not sure what it was, but you started to see him differently. He was more attractive, more alluring. Surely he hadn’t meant to make you develop feelings for him as his behavior hadn’t changed. 

When you first started to know you felt things for Arthur, you tried to suppress them. It wouldn’t be good for anyone right now for you two to get together, especially Arthur. He deserves a lot better than you, you know that. But lately, it’s been getting harder to hide how you feel. More than ever, he’s been inviting you to go hunting which has resulted in spending a lot of time alone with him. 

Then Arthur got that letter from his ex-lover Mary Linton. That really reminded you of how much Arthur is out of your reach. Watching him speed out of camp to go meet with her and then all the gossip that arose from that with the others made it perfectly clear that he still loves her. He could never love you. Still you felt a pang of jealousy for this woman, but you did your best to stuff it down. 

You pull yourself from your thoughts as Sadie tells Arthur to hand her Pearson’s letter. He tries to argue with her about it, but eventually gives in. You laugh with him as Sadie reads it aloud, adopting a poor rendition of Pearson’s rough voice. Just as she finishes, Arthur pulls the wagon into the dusty town of Rhodes. 

“So what’s the plan here?” Sadie says and she pulls out her pistol. “Shoot the store owner and rob him?” 

“What? No, are you insane?” Arthur growls, putting his hand on her gun to lower it, looking around to make sure no one saw. “We ain’t shootin’ anyone!”

“I thought we was outlaws!” Sadie retorts. 

“Outlaws, not idiots! We rob those who rob others. These people are just tryin’ to get by!” When Arthur’s sure Sadie won’t shoot anyone, he starts heading off for the train station to deliver Pearson’s letter. You follow Sadie inside, chuckling to yourself. She’s certainly turning into a fearless woman, though she still has a lot to learn about being an outlaw. 

You walk up to the store clerk and hand him Pearson’s list, Sadie looks around for a minute and then she walks up to him. “I wanna see what clothes ya got,” she says to him. 

“Okay. We have a decent amount of dresses and skirts, just got a shipment last week.” 

“Nah. Lemme see what pants and shirts ya got,” she replies. 

The clerk fumbles for a minute, but then he shrugs. “We got some of those. Not as many, mind, but some.” As he reaches for the catalog and hands it to Sadie, he continues on. “So, your feller don’t mind your attire, huh?” 

“Excuse me?” Sadie says, as she hadn’t really been listening to him. He repeats the question and then gestures to her left hand, which still has her wedding ring on it. “Oh, uh, no he don’t mind.” 

“I see,” the clerk says. “And where should my boys put your items, miss…” 

Sadie looks around quickly and then says, “Er, Kilgore. Mrs. Kilgore, and I have a wagon out front.” 

You’d been looking around the shelves, thinking about maybe buying some chocolate, when you heard Sadie say that name. It stops you cold. Kilgore. That’s the name Arthur often adopts when he wants to hide his identity. Why is Sadie using it now? Anger flushes through your chest at the thought that maybe she’s developing a crush on Arthur. How could she not? After all, Arthur was one of the first to help her after her husband was killed, he’s always made sure to check on her to make sure she’s okay. 

Not that you blame Sadie on having feelings for Arthur, you’re no better. However you thought things were bad enough when you were competing with Mary, a woman you’ve never met. But now you’re competing with Sadie? A woman who must be infinitely more desirable to a man like Arthur than you could ever hope to be? Sadie’s strong, confident, doesn’t take anything from anybody, and she’s a beautiful woman. 

Thinking of Sadie and Arthur together makes you feel like you’re sinking. The image of them being together seems more real to you than the thought of you being with him. Arthur doesn’t know what kind of lure he has on women. You can’t even begin to count how many women you’ve seen checking him out in towns, how obvious it is that they’re interested. Arthur could have just about any woman he wanted. There’s no way in hell he’d ever want to be in a relationship with you. His behavior has made it clear that friends is as far as he ever wants to go. 

This, though, is one strike too many. If Sadie starts making moves on Arthur, then there’s absolutely no chance for you. Not that you have much of one now. 

As Sadie continues to talk with the clerk, you hear something roaring in your ears and the walls feel like they’re closing in. Your chest starts to tighten, so you quickly go outside. But even here, out on the dusty road, it doesn’t feel right. You have to get out of here. 

Then you look down the road and see Arthur approaching. Once again, the image of him and Sadie together pops into your brain and you just can’t take it. Before he gets close, you suddenly dash off towards the saloon. You can hear him calling your name, but you ignore him. 

Once at the saloon and out of Arthur’s eyesight, you head down the dirt road, not caring that your horse is too far for you to call for, not caring that people are passing you by without a word. All you know is that, for your own mental health, you have to sever ties with Arthur. Clearly you can’t be friends with him as your feelings will always be there to complicate things, and you can’t stop yourself from loving him, as much as you want to. The thought of having no interactions with Arthur crushes you, but it’s something you have to do. 

A few hours go by, and you’re a little hurt about the fact that Arthur didn’t come after you. However this only solidifies that he doesn’t really care about you. Hell, has he ever seen the two of you even being friends? Maybe you were nothing but a hunting buddy for him. Perhaps you’re a bigger fool than you even thought. This makes you even more sure that you have to cut ties with him. With that thought, you head on back to camp. 

It takes another hour to get back since you’re walking on foot, but when you get there, you straighten yourself up and do your best to hide the dried tears. When you walk in, you greet the others like normal. Sadie then walks up to you, a repeater in her hands. 

“Well, ‘bout time you came on back! Where the hell you run off to?” 

“No where. Just… felt like going for a walk,” you say stiffly. 

“Must’ve been some walk. Well, here.” She hands you the repeater. “Hosea says you’re on watch duty next.” 

Without complaint, you take the rifle and head to the outskirts of camp, relieved to have a reason to be alone a while longer. You’re still not really sure what you plan on saying to Arthur next time he tries to have interactions with you. As you stand and wait for something to happen (which you know won’t), you think about what you will say to him. 

Should you come off as aggressive? Rip off the bandaid to make sure he leaves you alone? No, that won’t do. You’ve never been able to be angry for long periods of time with Arthur. However, you won’t be pouty with him. He’s never taken kindly to people who act that way. 

Before you really have a chance to decide on how to act, you hear his voice from behind you. 

“Hey, you okay?” 

“Oh. Hello, Mr. Morgan. I’m fine, thank you.” 

Arthur instantly knows you’re upset with him for something. You haven’t called him Mr. Morgan since you were still new to the gang and were breaking into the ranks. You’ve also never been so formal with him. He racks his brain for a second, trying to pinpoint why you’re upset. 

“You sure about that? You left the store in a big hurry.” 

“Yes. I just wanted to go for a walk. It’s such a beautiful day, I felt it would be a wasted opportunity.” 

Yep, you’re mad and he knows it. Arthur’s been around you long enough to know that you really don’t like being down here. You don’t like this humid heat, and you hate how the dust clings to everything, glued to any surface by the moist air. Besides, you only take long walks like that when you’re angry about something. 

“You wanna talk?” he says, noticing how you’ve refused to look at him, staring pointedly into the trees instead. 

“About what?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe about what’s bothering you?” He’s standing right next to you and you can feel his eyes on your face. 

“Nothing’s bothering me, Mr. Morgan. Now, I’m sure you’ve plenty of things to be doing rather than wasting your time on me. Perhaps Sadie needs help with something.” 

Arthur isn’t sure, but he thinks you sound a bit choked up when you say Sadie’s name. He also doesn’t like the way you brushed him off, the words you chose. 

“Well, I’m sure Sadie’s doin’ just fine. You know, on the way back to camp, a bunch of them Lemoyne Raiders showed up, tried robbin’ us. Sadie showed she’s more than capable with a gun. Frightened the hell out of me.” 

You blink and turn your face even further away from him, your chest tightening again. Great, now Sadie’s shown her fiery side. Arthur will definitely be interested, you just know it. 

“That don’t surprise me,” you say stiffly, trying to hide how close you are to crying again. “Well, why don’t you go and give her some pointers when it comes to guns? That is if you think she needs them.” 

Arthur puts his hands on his gunbelt. “Hey, what’s goin’ on with you and Sadie? She say somethin’ bad to you?” 

You sigh and shake your head. “It’s nothing, Arthur. Don’t worry about me.” 

Arthur’s starting to get frustrated with you, but then he realizes that he knows you better than anyone in this camp, and he knows that you’re not one to actively seek help when you need it. Your way of seeking help is to brush off even the tiniest offers of it. That’s when he knows that you’ve got something going on and in order to break through your walls, he needs to keep pushing. 

“But I do worry about ya. More than you’re probably aware.” Arthur scratches his chin. “And for the record, I don’t think time with you is time wasted.” 

This catches you off guard and for the first time, you look over at him. Encouraged, he gets a little closer to you. 

“Now come on, tell me wha’s botherin’ you,” he says in that gentle tone of his that makes you melt. 

You sigh and decide to relent. You leave out your feelings about him, but feel incredibly stupid by the end. To his credit, he doesn’t laugh about it. 

“That’s what made ya upset?” he says softly. 

You look away, but nod. “I just… I can see you and Sadie getting along really well together.” 

“As outlaws, sure. Sadie’s a pistol, anyone who wants to keep their skin would be wise to not make her mad. But she ain’t really my type, Y/N. ‘Sides, with how recently she lost her husband, I certainly hope she don’t go cruisin’ for another one any time soon. Ain’t healthy.” He rubs his chin and takes a step closer. “Point is, there ain’t nothin’ between me and Sadie. But, perhaps I’m a fool for hopin’ that maybe there is somethin’ between me and another woman.” 

He catches your eye for a brief second, blushes, and then hides his beneath his hat. Something tells you that you need to play coy. 

“Oh? And who may this other woman be? It’s not… Mary, is it?” you say, feeling like you really missed your mark. 

“Mary?” he looks up, his eyes hard. “No. That woman’s stayin’ in my past where she belongs. Last time I saw her, I realized she ain’t ever really been worth my time. No, I was thinkin’ of a different woman.” 

“Do I know her?” you say softly. 

“Yes, or at least partially. You know her as bein’ someone who ain’t worth much, I know that. Probably think she’d be better off away from anyone else where she can’t interfere with their lives. I don’t see her that way, though. I see her as a strong, confident woman, and I’d be a lucky man to have her by my side. Course, I ain’t known for my luck.” 

Arthur’s so close you can feel his breath on your face, he’s only inches from you at this point. Something tells you not to move a muscle, to not ruin this moment. Arthur’s hand comes up and cups your cheek. His palm is warm and rough, his fingers calloused, but his skin sets yours on fire. 

“What are you thinkin’?” he whispers. 

You swallow, your eyes darting down to his lips. “I’d say I’d go running with you anytime.” 

With that, you lean forward and close the small distance, placing your lips on his. He responds automatically as though he’d been thinking of the same thing. As you press your body against his, clutching his shirt on his shoulders, his strong arms wind behind yours, pressing you even harder against him. He tastes good, like coffee, and his body is much warmer than you could ever have imagined. His slightly chapped lips move steadily against your own and then his hands wind up into your hair. 

After a moment, he leans away, a small smile on his face. “Ya can’t imagine how long I been wantin’ to do that, darlin’.” 

“Seriously? I never even had the slightest idea you liked me.” 

He chuckles, his hand entwining with yours. “Well, I tried real hard to keep it a secret. Thought there was no way in hell you liked me back.” 

You smile and reach up to give him a tiny kiss, to which he accepts. “Arthur, I’ve liked you much longer than I think you know. You’re the best man I ever known.” 

“Darlin’, that ain’t exactly a compliment. I know the kinda men you run with most your life.” 

“Even so. It doesn’t change the fact that I think you’re a good man.” 

Suddenly you hear a loud raucous coming from camp. Looking over to the fire, you see Uncle, Sean and Lenny getting into what looks like a pretty rowdy party. Not wanting to have the spell between you and Arthur broken just yet, you grab his hand and lead him further into the trees where you can’t be seen. 

There, the two of you enjoy just sitting in one another’s embrace, talking about all manner of things. You both admit how long you’ve been attracted to the other and afraid to admit it. You also explain why Sadie referring to herself as Mrs. Kilgore set you off and made you jealous. 

“Darlin’, you realize it’s because she ain’t taken away her wedding ring yet, right? Hell, I’m sure she only said it because it was the first name that came to her mind when the feller asked.” 

“I know, I realized that after I got upset,” you blush and bury your face into his chest. He chuckles and brushes your hair. 

“Well, maybe you and I can go into town soon. You can call yourself Mrs. Morgan if it makes you feel better.” 

You look up at him with wide eyes. “Woah, there Arthur. We literally just got together. Ain’t it a little soon to pull that trigger?” 

He laughs and rubs your back. “I only jokin’, darlin’.” 

You smile and lay your head back on his chest. A thought comes to mind that maybe one day, you’ll have the honor of calling yourself Mrs. Morgan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna know what y'all think! Saw some problems? Let me know, it helps me grow! Saw stuff you liked? Let me know! It lets me know what to keep doing.


	110. The Arrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request from AO3: Fem. Reader is a member of the wapiti tribe (or indian tribe in general) and meets Arthur somewhere near their reservation. She runs in some O'Driscolls or other men and they try to... fight her?... anyways, arthur wants to help, she mistakes him for being bad, too and tries to kill him (with a bow ;))) )... But she decides to help him and takes him to the reservation.... aftercare ensues with fluff (and love?)Fem. Reader is a member of the wapiti tribe (or indian tribe in general) and meets Arthur somewhere near their reservation. She runs in some O'Driscolls or other men and they try to... fight her?... anyways, arthur wants to help, she mistakes him for being bad, too and tries to kill him (with a bow ;))) )... But she decides to help him and takes him to the reservation.... aftercare ensues with fluff (and love?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I have to apologize to the person who submitted this because they requested it right before I took my hiatus that was a lot longer than I intended. In fact I was halfway through writing it when I took my break, so it may not be as good as you are hoping. However I couldn't find it within myself to restart and try again because I knew it would end up in the same place. I hope it's at least somewhat satisfactory.

You walk down the path towards Calumet Ravine, watching as the orange dust of the trail floats gently around your feet. Around you, the sounds of the forest fill the air. Off in the distance, an elk emits his lonely howl.

Once at the river, you bend down and begin filling the water skins. It's just another one of your daily chores, to fetch water for your family. As the cool water licks over your fingers, your mind wanders back to your family.

Your little brother is very sick. Your mother has been doing everything she can to treat his illness, but her medications have been having little effect. He needs the medicine the army promised to deliver, but they claim that the train bringing it has been delayed once again. Whether or not this is true is immaterial. 

Your father has been working closely with the chief Rains Fall to try and concoct ideas on how to promote beneficial negotiations with Colonel Favours. However, your father is not the only one who's becoming frustrated with the lack of movement with the army. 

As you stand up with the full skins, your pistol in its sheath bumps against your thigh. You're still getting used to wearing it. Your father pushed you into wearing it, but you know his reasons behind it are sound. Recently more and more women and elders are being picked off, beaten, raped, or killed by the army. Your father brought the gun belt and pistol to share among the family. Every time you leave the tribe's grounds, you have to wear it. Luckily you haven't had to use it yet (seeing as you know next to nothing about shooting it). Still it is reassuring to have it just in case. 

Once back in the tribe, you look around at the faces of your fellow members, their desperate and hungry looks. Many of them have sick family members, just like your brother, and many of them are growing tired and angry about the entire situation. 

Once you get to your teepee, your eyes immediately go to your brother's sweaty face. He's gotten worse. Your mother places another wet cloth on his head, trying to bring down his fever. 

Your father walks in with a heavy sigh. "Still no word on those vaccines," he says. "Rains Fall has tried speaking to Favours again, but that awful man just gave him the run around again." 

"My sister Running Horse thinks the army is purposefully withholding the vaccines," your mother says softly. "She says it's the only reason why we've heard nothing about them. Favours is holding them above our heads until he gets whatever it is that he wants." 

Your father sighs and sits down on the other side of your brother. "Perhaps she is right. How is her husband? Didn't she say he was getting better last night?" 

Your mother sniffs. "Brown Otter died this morning. Tomorrow we will take him to the burial grounds." 

You and your father bow your heads in sorrow. Your uncle had been one of the best warriors in the tribe and was also a loving, hard working father. When he got sick, it hit everyone hard. This is a bitter blow. 

"I heard Paytay saying he and Eagle Flies are planning on a raid on the fort," you say, handing a skin to your mother. 

"They'd be fools to," your father replies. "Doing so will only result in more of us suffering. Rains Fall agrees." 

Your brother begins to cough hard, something he's been doing off and on all morning. It breaks your heart to see him, usually so lively and active, be brought down so low. You know it's only a matter of time until he can't go on anymore. 

The thought of losing your brother fills you with rage. All your memories of him cannot end with him dying like this. He's not even twenty yet, he's got so much to live for. 

Unable to sit here any longer and watch helplessly, you get up and grab your bow, explaining you're going to hunt. You almost ditch the pistol but your father will make you take it out anyways. 

You mount up on your horse and leave as quickly as possible, wanting to get out. You head west, further away from the areas the army’s been patrolling. They’re the last thing you need to deal with right now. 

Just as you're passing the trail above Window Rock, a shot echoes through the air, spooking your horse. A man hops out from behind a boulder and shoots into the air again, laughing madly. Your horse had enough, and despite your efforts to calm her, she throws you off and gallops into the trees. Not surprising, really. She's not used to the explosions of guns.

"Well, well. Lookie here! One of them red skins!" the man cackles. From behind him come three other men, staring hard at you as you stand up from where you were thrown. 

"Little far from your tribe, ain't ya, little girl?" one of the men taunts. 

You're not sure who these men are. They aren't associated with the army, their clothes make that clear. They do however hold that look of wild men, of living rough and hard. It's no secret though that they've nothing good planned for you.

One man stares at you hungrily and then begins to rush over to you. Instinctively you aim your bow and shoot the arrow you notched quicker than a blur. Your aim is true and the arrow finds its way to his neck, blood spurting from where it lands.

That's all the men need and they're firing at you. It's more luck than anything else that you're able to hide behind a thick tree in time that you're not shot. The pistol bounces against your thigh in its holster, basically useless. 

Without trying to think, you aim your arrows around the tree and return fire, but the men are aware of your keen ability with the bow and they've taken up their own hiding places. Your arrows impale themselves into trees or glance off of rocks, but none find a body. 

Just as you're becoming aware of how unfair the odds are, a horse storms down the path and you hear the explosions of a shotgun, the men who'd cornered you grunting as they died. You're still firing your arrows though and don't see the person, but he surely must not have any good intentions. Probably just wants you for his own sport. It's not like it hasn't happened to members of your tribe before. 

As quickly as it began, the firing suddenly stops. With an arrow still notched, you glance around the tree. There's no one there, but you can hear the snorting of a horse. That person who killed these men is still here.

Resolving yourself, you leap out from behind the tree and aim your arrow at the person. You see briefly that it's a man, and he's looting one of the bodies. As soon as he sees you, he straightens up. You glare at him, he definitely looks like a frontiersman with his cowboy hat, big boots, his rough clothes. 

You pull back your string, intent to kill him, when he speaks up. 

"Woah! Easy, girl. I ain't one of these O'Driscoll bastards." He raises his hands in surrender, showing you his weapons are holstered. 

"How do I know that?" You demand in English, despite you rarely speaking in the tongue. 

"I just killed all them bastards. Besides, I run with their rival gang. I promise, I ain't gonna hurt you. Are you okay?" 

You consider letting the arrow go, to bury itself in the man's chest. If not to protect yourself, to avenge your people. Then your father's voice rings through your mind, telling you that to kill him will only bring more suffering on your people. Finally you lower your bow. 

"Then if you're not here to kill me, what are you here for? You going to assault me?" You holler, raising the bow again.

"No! No, I promise, I didn't come here with any intentions to hurt you or any of your people." 

You glare into his eyes and see he's telling the truth. He lacks the hunger other men have looked at you with. Despite the violence he just committed, his eyes speak of the horrible things he's seen. Finally you lower your bow again.

"Fine. Then if you aren't here to hurt me, what do you want?" 

He lowers his hands and looks around. "Nothin', and that's the truth. I was just up in this area, saw these bastards. But listen, you should get home, before any more of 'em show up." 

The weight of what you'll find in your tribe finally crushes you and it feels like it's going to crush your chest. "I… I can't." 

The man approaches you slowly. "Why? You… you're not an outcast, are ya?" 

"No. It's… it's my brother. He's dying. And he's not the only one," you say, thinking miserably of the other members. So many of them are suffering and there’s nothing you can do about it. 

“Dyin’?” the man asks, taking a few hesitant steps towards you. 

You nod stiffly and look at him, unable to help the tears flooding your eyes finally. The thought you’ll probably lose your brother finally slams into you and it makes your knees bend. “He’s…. He’s so sick,” you mutter, your cheeks wet. 

“Sick?” the man asks, kneeling down next to you. “Ain’t you supposed to be gettin’ vaccines and such from the government?” 

You huff and roll your eyes. “Where have you been the last 18 months? Them army boys were helpin’ us. Until… that monster took over.” You think sourly of Favours. Despite the fact you barely know this man, you tell him everything about how the army has made your people suffer. He listens quietly and when you finally get to your uncle died last night and your little brother is circling the drain, you break down again. 

“I can’t lose him!” you weep, almost begging him, though you know there’s nothing you can do. “He’s… he’s got so much to live for. He hasn’t even done his walk yet,” you say, referring to the test all boys take in order to become a man. A rite of passage as old as your tribe itself is. 

The man sighs and then he looks around. “You mentioned the army was supposed to deliver these vaccines, hmm? I might have somethin’ I can do.” 

Without another word, he stands up and whistles for his horse. When he’s mounted up, he turns to you. 

“Meet me at the bridge at Calumet Ravine at dawn.” Before you can ask what he’s going to do, he takes off, his eyes set. 

Unsure of what to make of his strange behavior, you decide to head on home, even though you’re empty handed. However the thought that all you’ll have to see there is your dying brother, you go back anyways. Luckily his condition hasn’t worsened, so you decide to stay with him so your mother can get some rest as your father has gone out to look for medicinal herbs again (though no one is hopeful). 

You manage to wake up early enough to get up just as the sky’s lightening. You remember the man telling you to meet him at the bridge, so you grab your bow and put on the gun belt before heading out. Not many others are up this early and those who are don’t ask where you’re going. You tend to wander a lot, especially with so many people close to you falling ill, that no one finds you leaving this early as unusual. 

After you mount up on your horse, you trot down the path and turn right. The bridge comes into view quickly and there you see the man, silhouetted in the darkness as the sky above continues to grow bright. He doesn’t move as you approach. Finally, on the other side of the bridge, you stop. 

“You wanted me to meet you here,” you say, feeling apprehensive. Had he truly meant you harm yesterday but knew you couldn’t be taken off guard then so he plans to hurt you now?

However, he dismounts, reaches into his satchel and pulls out a box and walks across the bridge. “I snuck into that fort just down the ravine there. Found these,” he says, handing you the box.

After giving him a suspicious look, you take the box and open it. Inside are small, brown bottles full of liquid and a multitude of needles. These look like the…

“Vaccines?” you say.

He nods. “Way I see it, them bastards owe you a lot more than they ever given you. I ain’t gonna stand by while they rob you. Take ‘em, save your brother and the others.”

You look at him, feeling your eyes well up again. “Why are you doing this?” you ask quietly. “I don’t know you, you don’t me.” 

He sighs. “‘Cause it ain’t right. ‘Sides, let’s just say the army and myself ain’t exactly on good terms right now anyways. I don’t mind flickin’ ‘em on the nose if I can help it.” 

You realize now that what he has done holds a huge meaning to your people. Without his generosity and courage, your people would be doomed. So you offer him your hand. 

“Please come with me,” you say. “Come and speak with my chief. He will want to thank you.” 

“Oh no, that’s okay. You can tell him you got ‘em.” 

“No, no one will believe me. Trust me, many of my people have tried. Please come.” 

Finally he sighs and agrees, mounting up again and following you. As soon as he’s within the boundaries of your tribe, several people give him dirty looks. You can understand why. Under any other circumstance, he would not be welcome. To them, he still isn’t, but you hold him under your protection. 

As soon as you’ve dismounted, a few people have gathered to glower at the two of you. That is when you raise the box. “This man has helped us. I have vaccines and it is because of him we have them.”

Understanding and awe dawns their faces and they begin to mutter and move, allowing the two of you to move towards the chief’s tipi. Just as you’re approaching, Eagle Flies comes out. He’s likely had another argument with his father, at least he looks irritated and angry. Then his eyes land on the man and you expect him to become furious. What you don’t expect him to do is approach him and shake his hand. 

“Mr. Morgan. I am glad to see you.” 

“Mr. Morgan?” you ask. Eagle Flies looks at you but says nothing. 

“Hello, son. Helped your friend here, got you some vaccines. She said you got a lot of sick folk.” 

By this time, Rains Fall has joined your little group. He speaks in his gentle voice. “She is not wrong. You say you have vaccines? We owe you, Mr. Morgan.” 

“No, you don’t,” he says, hiding his eyes under his hat. “Way I figure, it’s the least I could do. ‘Sides, those bastards in the fort didn’t even know I was there.” 

As the men begin to chat, you grab a needle and a bottle of the medicine before giving the box to Eagle Flies. Then you head onto your tipi, desperate to give your brother the medicine he so badly needs. As soon as you get inside and your mother sees, she sighs in relief and administers the medicine. 

Over the next few days, things have improved for your tribe, but unfortunately not for your family. Although many of the other members who were ill are now beginning to recover, your brother is not. 

You wake up one morning and find your mother kneeling by the fire, tears streaming down her cheeks. You sit up. “What is it?” 

“Your… your brother,” she says, seeming to be unable to get the words out. “He… p-passed last night.” 

A rushing sound fills your ears and you shoot up quickly, going over to where your brother sleeps. He’s still there but his blanket is pulled over his head. You almost reach over and pull it down, wanting to see him, but you already know you can’t see him like that. Not when he should be so full of life. 

“But… but we gave him his medicine,” you say, sure this can’t be right. “We did everything! How is this possible?” You realize now you’re almost yelling.

Your mother looks up with you, her eyes tell you she feels the same denial and anger you do. “I know. It… it must have been too late.” 

Despite knowing you should stay here and comfort her, you have to get out. You can’t stay in this shrinking tipi with the shell of your brother inside. Before you can say anything, you rush out. But even outside, you can’t seem to breathe. You rush over to your horse and jump onto her back, needing to get out. 

After galloping away and just going for a few moments, you stop, blinded by the tears and your chest feeling as though it’s going to split open. You bend down and place your head on the back of your horse’s neck. Why did this happen?

Just as you begin to slip off your horse’s back, you hear a familiar voice. 

“Miss?” As you fall, arms suddenly catch you. “Woah there. Miss, you a’right?” 

You look up and see Mr. Morgan holding you up. He looks worried when he notices your tear-streaked face. 

“M-my brother,” you sob, your throat threatening to close. “M-my brother!” 

“Hey, it’s okay. Come on, sit down. Drink some o’ this.” 

He helps you sit down on the side of the trail on a small boulder and pulls out a bottle of whiskey. You’re not a particular fan of the alcohols of white men, but you take it without question. The whiskey fills your throat and chest with fire and you cough a little. When you’ve stopped, Mr. Morgan pats you on the back. 

“A’right, so how’s your brother?” he asks softly. 

You’re still crying, but you feel a little stronger. “My brother, he…. He’s dead.” 

The man sighs heavily. “I’m real sorry. Sorry the medicine didn’t work.” 

You put your face in your hands and let go properly, not caring that this stranger is watching you bawl, not caring about much of anything at this point. What will happen to your family now? What will happen to you? You spent so much of your life watching out for him, teaching him, playing with him as kids. And now he’s gone. He’s gone when he should have lived for a long time. You don’t realize you’ve said all these things out loud until the man speaks. 

“Listen, sometimes things happen no one can control. Things go wrong. People die. No one can change the past, we can’t change things that happen. But I want you to know somethin’: it ain’t your fault. You did the absolute best you could for him, and not just when he was sick. I bet you always done the best for him. But… wherever he is, he still loves you. I’m sure if he could talk, he’d tell you thank you and… who knows, maybe he’s happier. Know things for your people haven’t been easy lately, and well, he ain’t sick no more.” 

Despite yourself, you can’t help but feel a little better. You look up at him. 

“I hope so. But… but why are you being so kind? You got those vaccines, you’re helping me now. Why?” 

He sighs and leans back a little, putting his hand behind you on the boulder. “Because I know what it’s like to be where you are, to have people hurt you and those you care about for their own reasons. And I also know how hard it is to lose people you care about.” 

He stares off in the distance, his eyes full of unspoken answers as though he’s remembering his own losses. Desperate to get away from your pain, you ask him who he’s lost. At first you don’t think he’s going to answer, but then he speaks. 

“I’ve lost several people. My mama died when I was a kid. Watched my daddy die at the end of a rope, honestly it weren’t soon enough. Lost my son and his mama. Then a few months ago, I watched someone who was like my annoyin’ little brother get shot in the head. Few weeks ago, I watched someone who was more like my father than my real pa was die, and right after him another friend I was tryin’ to watch out for like my own kid. And somethin’ tells me I might lose more pretty soon.” 

After you process what he’s said, you can’t help but lean in a little closer to him, wishing someone would comfort you physically. “How do you deal with it?” 

He sighs again. “You don’t, not for a while anyways. The only thing that heals it is time. But what you can do is be with your family. They’re hurting as much as you, I promise. You’ll comfort yourself by comfortin’ them. And… I’m here for ya if you need someone too.” 

This takes you off guard. He’s a stranger and yet here he is offering you a shoulder to cry on. Maybe it’s because he’s lost so many people, or maybe it’s because he’s a good man. However you can’t help but take him up on his offer. As you look up at him, you get a strange feeling. Something in your gut tells you to trust him and that there is the potential for a long future with him. You’re not sure where this feeling comes from, but you decide to trust it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, when a writer says that comments are their bread and butter, they really mean it. I wouldn't have ended my hiatus if it wasn't for the comments I've received, so thank you!


	111. What Lies Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Howdy. Can you write fem reader resembling Mary who Arthur feels extremely intimidated by? He later finds out, she's not as manipulative as Mary or nasty. She's understanding and very supportive of his outlaw life that she'll try to help him as best as she can. ( Reader isn't an outlaw btw. Just some rich girl.)

You walk down the dusty street of Blackwater, your mind focusing on nothing in particular as you make your way down to the store. However your eyes wander over to the west, where you can just make out the tips of Tall Trees. Something about it has always drawn you, and you’ve always wanted to go out there. Instead you’re forced to stay in town in order to uphold your father’s reputation. After all, the mayor’s daughter is expected to act a certain way, and living the life of a nomad or an outlaw is not how a mayor’s daughter is expected to act. 

After you finish buying your things in the store, you begin heading out the door. You aren’t paying attention to where you’re going and you smack right into a person. You grunt and look up to see a rugged, rather handsome man. The first thing you notice about him is his blue eyes. 

“Sorry the-” he begins, then his eyes widen. “Mary?” 

“Mary?” you say. “That ain’t my name.” 

He blinks and steps back. “No, I reckon it isn’t.” He looks oddly disappointed. 

You give him a strange look and then start to go around him, wanting to get back to your (in your opinion) boring life. Suddenly you hear footsteps running up from behind you and when you look to see who it is, it’s the man. 

“Ma’am, I apologize. You just… ya look like someone I know.” 

“I look like someone you know?” you ask skeptically. 

“Yes. Um… I doubt you’d know her. Mary. She was a… well, never mind. Sorry, wastin’ your time.” 

He tips his hat and then leaves, almost as though desperate to get away. You watch him intently until he’s out of sight. Something about him intrigues you. Perhaps it’s his rugged style, telling of his wild, unbridled life. Something you don’t have. Or perhaps it’s just that he mistook you for someone he knows and when he realized you weren’t this Mary, he almost seemed nervous of you. It’s probably best you put it out of your mind. 

A few days later, you’re standing near the dock of Blackwater along with most of the town. You’re only doing it to pretend to support your father, who’s addressing the town in order to try and convince them to vote for him in a couple of months. You hate these stupid speeches of his. How full of lies he is. 

You’ve always hated your father being the mayor. His lies don’t permeate just through his politics, but in his home life too. He was an absent father even before his current position. However back in those days he was just another Joe sneaking off in the night to cheat on your mom or go off drinking. Now he still does those things but instead of people thinking how despicable he is for those behaviors, they let him get away with it because of his position of power. 

As you stand here now, ignoring your father, you look over and see the man who mistook you as another woman not too far away. He doesn’t look too interested either and as he’s standing in the back of the ground, it looks more like he just wandered over to see what was going on. 

You can’t lie, you haven’t been thinking about him since you saw him last. Perhaps the thing that’s drawing you to him is that you’ve always wanted to know what it is like to live wild and free, and he’s a person who does that and the ice has already been broken between you. 

The man turns to walk away, so you quickly begin pushing your way through the crowd to catch up to him. Damn your father, he doesn’t need you around anyways. Finally you’re out and you jog up behind him. 

“Hey mister!” you say. He turns and his eyes widen again. 

“Oh, uh, hello miss. How are you? Sorry again for the other day.” 

“Oh don’t be. But… but maybe we can go for a drink at the saloon and you can explain why you thought I was this Mary?” You hold your breath, waiting for him to turn you down. He probably will. After all, you’ve obviously intimidated him. 

However he smiles softly, an addition that makes him even more handsome. “Sure. Wouldn’t mind that.” 

When you’re both seated at the saloon, he looks surprised when you order a shot of whiskey and even more surprised when you toss it back like it’s nothing. You find him looking. 

“What?” you ask. 

“Nothin’, sorry. Just… guess I didn’t think you could do that, but it just stems from that person I thought you was.” 

You shuffle in your seat a bit. “Really? So tell me. Who’s this Mary?” 

He looks down at his drink, hiding his eyes and holding a soft smile. “She’s a… well, she’s… she and I was gonna be married, but that was years ago.”

“Oh. She, uh, she didn’t die, did she? I mean, if you need to talk-” 

“What? No, no she ain’t dead. She just, uh, she… she didn’t like my lifestyle so we broke things off.” 

“Your lifestyle?” you ask. “What lifestyle?” 

He looks around to make sure no one’s listening. “You won’t tell no one, will ya?” 

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” you joke. 

He huffs a small laugh. “Well, okay, I’ll take your word for it. See, I’m an outlaw.” 

You look at him for a second. An outlaw? He’s one of those people who stands for that thing you’ve always yearned for: freedom. That ability to live how you want, do what you want. 

“An… an outlaw, you say?” 

He looks at you as though he expects you to be angry. His hand shifts a little on his shot glass. His eyes drop to it. 

“Yeah. Only like I said, don’t tell no one.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sir. But… well, what’s like?” you ask enthusiastically. 

He looks back up at you as though surprised. “You.... you’re askin’ me what it’s like to be an outlaw?” 

You nod and shift a little closer to him, wanting to know. He huffs a small laugh. “Well, I don’t really know how to describe it to someone who’s never been one. It ain’t easy though. Most nights you spend wonderin’ if someone’s gonna slit your throat, rarely gettin’ to spend a night in a bed. You live rough and hard, knowin’ you’re likely to leave this world with a bullet hole.”

Although you know his words should be putting you off, you find something about his words that draw you. “But it’s exciting, isn’t it?” 

“Excitin’?” he asks skeptically. 

“Yeah! You know, people who live like me, y’know law-abiding citizens,” you put on an exaggerated accent as you say it, “we live knowin’ we’re gonna have long and boring lives, and we’ll die white haired and wishing we’d died a long time ago. But you get to live free, with every day being different from the last. And instead of just being given a life you get to squander away like most of us, you get the chance to actually fight for it! That in itself is a rare gift, if you ask me.” 

He shakes his head a little and looks away, his face saying he doesn’t quite agree. “I don’t know about that. You make the idea of it all sound so romantic. It ain’t nothin’ of the sort.” 

“That’s because it’s all you know, mister. But me… all I know is this boring lifestyle. Everyday’s the same and I always know what’s going to happen. And I gotta tell ya, it’s not what I want.” 

You look down at your empty shot glass, realizing now the depth of your dull life. The outlaw shakes his head again. 

“Thing is, miss, we don’t choose the outlaw life. It chooses us. Folk like me, well, we all come from bad backgrounds and all we can do is decide what to do with what we’re offered. It ain’t somethin’ I’d wish on anyone.” 

“You think folk like me haven’t suffered too?” you say. He looks at you curiously and you know you need to tell him more. “Mister, I have to watch my mom tiptoe around my dad every day that he’s home. Not only that, we both go around, knowing he’s happily sleeping with other women. I hate having to see the pain in my mom’s eyes, knowing there’s nothing I can do. I’ve felt my dad’s harsh hand on my cheek more than once. You think it’s an easy life? Going through that and thinking you have no way to defend yourself?” 

He sighs and looks at his drink again. “Well, maybe not. But it ain’t a good life, miss.” 

“Maybe not, but it’s surely better than the one I have now. The only thing I got to look forward to is a marriage to a guy my daddy’s likely to pick for me, and raising the bastard’s kids. Not something I’d call exciting.” 

You realize now you sound almost as though you’re pleading this man to offer you a different future. The fear of what you have coming to you seems to be hurtling at you. The man smiles a little.

“Well, maybe I don’t wanna ingratiate you into a life like this, but.... If you’re willin’, maybe I can give you a few pointers on how to defend yourself from the nasty folk in your life.” 

You smile at him and he feels his heart flutter. Damn it, why do you have to look so much like Mary? It makes it that much harder to be around you, but it’s your nature that truly intrigues him. You have a spark that he’s rarely seen, an almost naivety he can’t help but find sweet. Mary had that naivety at one point, until she’d witnessed his violent side and it scared her off. He wonders now if things will get to that point with you and you’ll end up running as far as you can. 

Despite the logic staring him in the face that he should just leave you where you are in your boring yet safe life, he decides to offer you how to defend yourself with a gun. You impress him again by heartily agreeing. 

A few weeks go by. You and the man named Arthur Morgan have become fast friends. He’s been teaching you how to shoot. He denies it to himself that he’s not growing feelings for you. Despite looking so much like his beloved Mary, you act nothing like her. You don’t hold a superior attitude of yourself. You’re open to his ideas, his instructions when he’s teaching you, but most of all, you don’t look down on him or criticize him for his way of life. 

You’ve been thinking about Arthur over the past week or so. It’s pretty obvious Arthur likes you, you’ve noticed the subtle flirting. The way his eyes dart to your lips and away when you’re standing close, how he blushes when you pat his shoulder. Although he’s handsome, you don’t really know how you feel about him just yet. 

It doesn’t take long though for you to finally begin feeling the same things towards him. You start lingering your hand on his shoulder, wanting to stand close to him. He’s been in town a lot more lately, stating he’s working on a real estate scam with someone from his gang, and you’re happy to have him around more often. 

There was an evening when the two of you had been fishing when things had been just right. You’d been out all day with the outlaw, the air was warm but not too hot. The sky was a beautiful gold and one thing led to another and you kissed Arthur. He’d kissed you right back. It was then that he decided you needed to know more about his life and how he ran with a gang. You almost asked him then to take you with him to meet them, but a challenge had risen recently. 

Your father is starting to catch wind that you’re up to something and he doesn’t approve. He knows you’ve been running off with a stranger, folk in town who’ve seen you have told him as much. They don’t know what you’re doing with him though and he assumes you’re off doing ungodly things with him that are unbefitting of an unmarried woman who was his daughter. 

He’s been trying more and more to get you to mingle with the men in town that, in his opinion, would make a more fitting husband, and he’s been trying to restrict your time out of the house, claiming your mother needs the help. She, however, always pushes you out when your father leaves and tells you to be with your man. You have a suspicion she’s trying to encourage you to go against your father’s wishes as her own form of revenge on him. Or maybe she doesn’t want you making her mistakes. 

A few days have passed since you last saw Arthur, and you’d agreed to meet here by the post office in Blackwater today. He’s late though. Never before has Arthur been late, and you feel a little worried. You doubt it’s anything serious though. He’s always running around; he’s a busy man. 

You have to admit though, there’s a strange feeling of anticipation in the air today. Maybe you’re just being silly because Arthur’s late. No one else seems to notice it. 

You sit down on the bench and wipe some dust off your new pants. Ever since you started dating Arthur, he’s been encouraging you more and more to be your own person, to do what you want and wear what you want. You’ve rarely worn pants up until recently, but they’re far preferred over skirts and dresses. Riding horses in them is far easier as well. 

More time passes and still Arthur has not shown up yet. Is he blowing you off? Maybe… maybe he finally decided you’re not worth it anymore. Not that you blame him. Boring person like yourself must be mediocre at best for a man like him, whose life is full of excitement. How you envy him. 

You sigh and begin to stand up. It’s obvious he’s not coming, it’s been well over an hour now. Feeling hurt and confused, you begin walking away from the post office when all of a sudden, people in the city begin to scream and yell. Horses begin running all over, urged by their riders. An officer hollers out, “Ferry’s being robbed!” 

Your gut suddenly sinks and your mind immediately goes to Arthur. His gang is the only one you know about, and they must be the ones doing this. Is he with them? Is he going to get shot? 

You panic and begin running towards the town, towards the doc to see the ferry. You have to make sure he’s okay. 

Just as you set off, a hand suddenly grabs your arm and pulls you into an alleyway. As you’re about to scream, sure that some predator is about to take the town’s panic and attack you, you look at him. Relief floods you as you gaze into Arthur’s eyes. 

He’s sweating and panting a little, and he’s tense. You can see it in his shoulders. 

“Don’t go that way, darlin’. It’s a goddamn mess.” 

“Arthur, what’s happening?” you demand. “Did… did you do this?” 

“What? No. I mean, not directly.” He looks around, making sure no lawmen are coming. Then he looks at you and you see his brows contract as though he’s about to do something he really doesn’t like. “Darlin’, I didn’t do this, but I ain’t gonna lie to you. Most of my gang is on that boat. I was tryin’ to pull some more of that scam me and Hosea been doin’. Sounds like everythin’s gone wrong though. I… I don’t know what’s gonna happen to us.”

“What are you saying, Arthur?” 

He looks at you again and you feel another surge of panic, already knowing what he’s going to say. 

“Darlin’, I have to run away. There’s Pinkertons huntin’ us now. My only choice is to run and… I just wanted to see you one last time before-”

“No,” you interrupt. “No, I’m not letting you go that easily, Arthur Morgan! I’m coming with you!”

“What? No. No, you ain’t. This ain’t no life I’d wish upon you.” 

“But it’s what I want, Arthur! I want you! If that means I have to join a group of criminals to do it, then I will. I’m not leaving you! Besides, you’d be freeing me of my prison.” 

“It ain’t a vacation, darlin’! This life is hard. We’re guaranteed to leave with a bullet!” 

“Better than dying old and worn out, wishing you’d done more than you did. Arthur, I already know how my life is going to play out if I stay here, and I don’t want it! Take me with you! If you don’t, I’ll just follow you on my horse.” 

Arthur would never admit it, but his heart soars when you say this. He’d hated himself when he realized he had to break things off in order to protect you. He still wishes you’ll change your mind, this really isn’t an easy life that he lives. 

“It’s gonna be rough and hard, sweetheart,” he says, trying to convince you differently. 

“Better than boring and dull, Arthur. Take me with you.” 

He sighs, seeing the fire in your eyes. It’s clear he will not win this fight. With a resolved nod, he takes your hand and leads you out of the alleyway and then runs for his horse. Right after helping you onto the back, he mounts up and begins galloping towards the edge of the city. 

Just as he’s approaching the farm houses on the borders of Blackwater, Pinkertons come around. They yell to each other, demanding Arthur be shot. He kicks his horse harder but she suddenly whines and her legs collapse under her, throwing both you and Arthur. 

“No, no. You goddamn bastards!” Arthur roars, whipping out his gun and firing at the Pinkertons. He’s outnumbered though, so you grab his gun from his other holster and fire. Your aim isn’t even half as good as his as you’ve just begun to learn how to shoot a gun, but you manage to shoot two Pinkertons down. 

By the time the weight of what you’ve just done begins to sink onto you, the remaining Pinkertons have fallen. Arthur grabs your hand and begins to run. Behind one of the ranch houses is a pasture with a horse, slightly panicked from the gunshots. 

“Arthur,” you whine behind him as he calms the horse so you both can mount. “Arthur, I just… those men… I killed…!” 

“Shhh, shhh. I know, sweetheart. I told you, this life is rough. I can’t even count how many men I killed.” 

He turns to you with guarded eyes. “You sure you still wanna do this? I promise you will kill more men if you come with me. Every single one of us has. It’s a weight you’ll have to get used to if you come. I won’t blame ya or think less of ya if you change your mind.” 

You square your shoulders, telling yourself you’ll cry about it later when you’re alone. “You ain’t getting rid of me so easily, Mr. Morgan.” 

He smiles, impressed by your determination. Then he grabs you and puts you onto the back of the horse. He climbs on in front again with some difficulty as there’s no saddle or bridle, but he manages to guide it just fine. 

As Arthur runs, you feel a certain exhilaration fill you. It seeps into your lungs and then permeates through your whole body. Ahead lies the freedom you’ve been chasing for so long, that wildness and untouched and unknowable future. Although you know that what Arthur said about this life being rough and hard is true, you’d rather have it than what you’re leaving behind. You wrap your arms around him, the knight guiding you to what lies ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really feel like I'm finally coming back to wanting to write again for this fandom! It feels good, and I wouldn't be doing it if it weren't the support of my readers. So thank you, all of you, for reading my work!


	112. "I just need to feel something"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Touch me. I don’t care how. I just need to feel something right now…” female reader telling Arthur .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is actually the very first prompt I ever got and it has been lost for a long time, but I finally found the sneaky little bastard!

You’ve been feeling off for a few days. You don’t really know why. All you know is sometimes, for a period of days or sometimes even weeks, you’ll be hit with this inexplicable feeling of emptiness. Not even sadness, but just nothing. Like all your emotion has just been stripped away, leaving you with a gaping hole in your chest. It also makes you feel like you have no energy or desire to do anything, not even the things you like. 

Living in the Van der Linde gang has its own set of problems, but when these bouts of nothingness come, it makes it that much harder. Grimshaw, though motherly in her own way, can become a downright terror. When you have no energy to spend on chores, she shrieks like a hawk and sometimes offers a smack or a pinch on the ear to get you going. 

You’ve been sweet on Arthur for a few months now, and you’ve had a nagging suspicion he’s been sweet on you too. Neither of you has said anything of course, and you don’t even have evidence to prove he likes you in the same way. It’s just the lingering stares, the way he hesitates to remove his hand when it brushes yours when he gives you something. The way he blushes when he says something nice and then hides his eyes beneath his hat. Little things like that. Normally you’d love doing things to make him blush, but today you just don’t have it in you. 

You find yourself standing at the cliff of Horseshoe Overlook, trying to be invisible from the sharp eyes of Grimshaw. She seems to have a knack for when any of you girls are slacking though, like she can hear your idleness or something. As if on queue, you hear footsteps approaching from behind. 

You tilt your head back, trying to bury the overwhelming emptiness that threatens to bring tears to your eyes. Finally with a heavy sigh, you turn to tell Susan you’re going back to work. Instead, you find Arthur stopping a few feet away. 

He looks as though he’s about to say something, but he stops. Can he read what you’re thinking on your face? You hope not. It’s not something you enjoy sharing with others. 

“You a’right?” he asks. 

And of course, as if you were just waiting for that question to be asked, your eyes brim with tears. “Y-yeah, yeah I’m doing just fine, Mr. Morgan.” 

“You don’t look fine, Y/N. What’s goin’ on?” His voice is so gentle and you can tell he truly wants to know. He’s not asking out of politeness. He takes a few steps closer. 

“I… I don’t know,” you say, looking down at your feet. You prod a clump of grass with the toe of your shoe, wishing you could convey what you’re feeling into words. Why is this so hard?

“Is there anythin’ I can do, sweetheart?” he asks. Normally the name would have made you blush.

“No, Mr. Morgan. There’s nothing. Thank you for asking though.” 

He sighs as though he’s disappointed. Then he pats your shoulder. “A’right. Let me know if you change your mind.” 

When he touched you, your shoulder burned with its weight. It was like as if your body was a cold lump, as unfeeling as a rock, but the part of your shoulder he touched was brought back to life. Before you have the chance to second guess yourself, you call to him.

“Wait. Maybe… maybe there is something you can do.” 

He stops and turns, his hands on his gun belt. He doesn’t say anything and you know he’s waiting for you to talk.

“Touch me. I don’t care how. I just need to feel something right now,” you say too quickly. 

“Touch you?” he asks, his brow furrows. 

Shit, you think. That’s probably the last thing he was willing to do for you. Why would he want to? After all, no one’s cared for you, no one’s ever wanted to even be close to you. He isn’t any different. You gave up the idea of being capable of loving a long time ago. I’m a damn fool, you think.

“I… I’m sorry, Mr. Morgan,” you stammer. “Forget I said anything. It was stupid-”

He stops you by putting both hands on your shoulders. “Hey, no one said you was stupid. It ain’t a crime to want to be touched by someone.” 

He brushes a lock of hair from your face and tucks it behind your ear just as a tear slips down your cheek. Then, with surprising gentleness, he pulls you in to him, wrapping his arms around you. You stiffen up, you haven’t hugged anyone in years probably. It’s an odd feeling, but he’s so big and warm, it doesn’t take long for you to relax. He rubs your back soothingly as you cry a little more, folding your own arms around him. You don’t care who in the gang might see. All you know is your body feels as though it’s on fire after wandering through a frozen wasteland. 

He rests his cheek on your head and his hand brushes through your hair, sending further ripples of feeling into your body. With all these physical sensations, something in your chest blooms. It’s weak and you can’t put a name to it, but it grows until it feels as though your chest may burst. It feels good though.

Arthur holds you like this until your silent tears final stop. Only then does he pull away. His cheeks are pink and his eyes are hidden, but he’s smiling softly. “You ever feel like ya need to be touched again, come find me, Y/N,” he says.

You nod. “Thank you, Mr. Morgan.” 

“How many times I gotta tell you to call me Arthur, Y/N?” he says softly. He bends down and places a soft kiss to your cheek. With a small smile, he turns and leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've already left a kudos and want to give more, send me a comment! That is far better to a kudos to me! I love talking to my readers!!! I cannot express that enough!


	113. Sweet Dreams Are Made of These

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi hun, hope you've been well. I have a request. Modern reader turns off Red Dead Redemption 2 for the night. She goes to sleep and starts to dream of herself being in the game and meeting everyone. Morning comes, she realizes it was just a dream (and it was getting good too, don't you hate that?) She starts the game again and Arthur breaks the fourth wall to blink at her, making her blush.

You yawn heavily, your eyes stinging from the late hour and from staring at your TV the last few hours. It’s been a rare day where you’ve had it entirely to yourself so you’ve spent the majority of it playing Red Dead.

It’s been a while since you played the game; you’ve forgotten how much this game calms you. The beautiful scenery, the complexity of the people animated in it (even the NPCs). The endless things to do. Rockstar really pulled out the stops for this game. Especially when it comes to Arthur.

You’ve been harboring a massive crush on him since the end of your first playthrough. You’ve done plenty of diving into the thirst part of the fandom on Tumblr, which only made your attractions to him worse. Oh, why can’t he just be real? As you’ve played today, you’ve been shameless of your ogling of him. You started a new game this morning and when you hit chapter 2, you put him in clothes you found him sexy in and styled his hair. Not that he needs much help in looking good in the first place. 

However, it’s late now and your eyes are begging for sleep. As much as you’d like to keep on playing, you need to go to bed. After all, you’ll be able to play more tomorrow as it’s another rare free day. So you resolve yourself, save your game and turn it off. 

When you’re lying in bed, you think a bit more about the game, mostly Arthur. You even day dream a little about him in attempts to fall asleep, which works better than you’d like. However, it seems your mind is just as determined to stay with Arthur and the gang. 

You’re walking just outside the cluster of trees that marks Horseshoe Overlook. It’s warm out here, with the sun happily beaming down as it’s setting beyond the horizon. The birds are happily singing away, you hear a raccoon chattering away not too far off. Of course, you know what you might find in Horseshoe Overlook if you go in there, but you also know that the gang doesn’t stay there permanently. Will they be there? 

As you begin to walk, you look down at yourself. You’re wearing clothes that fit in with the time period and the game. Dusty jeans, a button down shirt that looks like you’ve had it a few years. As you reach up to brush a strand of hair from your face, your fingers caress a hat on your head. Well, at least if the gang is there, you won’t look entirely out of place. You smile, thinking that you feel like you’ve come home after a long day. 

Just as you enter the trees, you can smell the smoke coming from wood fires, the sound of people ahead talking. Someone comes walking out of the trees and you recognize Bill. 

“Who’s there?” he demands. 

“Hey Bill,” you say, wondering what he might do or say to you, an outsider. 

“Bout time you got back. Thought you’d gotten lost or somethin’,” he snarls before wandering off to continue patrolling, repeater in hand. 

Feeling a little confused that he seemed to recognize you, you decide to keep on heading into the trees, closer to camp. Will the others react in much the same way? 

When you get into the heart of camp, you see several of the other gang members. Hosea’s reading a book on his sleeping mat, Charles is fiddling with an arrow near the fire, which Jack is poking. Javier and Lenny are having a game of five finger fillet, Micah watching near the tree line. Most of the girls are sitting at their wagon, chatting easily as they stitch. As you stare around at them, you see Arthur walking over to you, his shoulders rolling as he walks. 

“Hey there,” he says to you, tipping his hat as he continues walking over to Pearson’s pot. 

“H-hey Arthur,” you say nervously, wondering if he’ll catch on to you being an outsider. But like Bill, he acts as though you’re another gang member. 

“About time you came back, girl!” comes the harsh voice of Grimshaw. She stands in front of you, hands on her hips, looking harsh. “I sure hope you had interesting adventures out there, you been gone so long I started to think you forgot where we were!” 

“S-sorry, Miss Grimshaw,” you say, unable to help but smile a little mischievously. She seems to accept it and walks off, muttering under her breath. 

By now, the sun has almost fully set, and you see several of the gang going to the campfire or the round table close by. Sean quickly begins to sing with Uncle, Javier strumming on his guitar. Feeling a bit more confident that you’re not going to be hurt by anyone, you go over to the fire. There’s only one free spot and it’s next to Arthur. Gathering your courage, you sit down next to him. 

“Hey sweetheart. Glad you joined us. Thought you might be too tired,” he says, his hand sliding onto your knee. 

Sweetheart? Did Arthur Morgan just call you sweetheart? You’re confused but you try to hide it. 

“Never too tired to be with you, honey,” you say, trying to sound like this isn’t unusual. He smiles back, his hand squeezing your knee. 

Hosea speaks up from his chair on the other side of the fire. “You know, I used to want to be an actor when I was a young man. I once saw a drama as a boy and I loved it. But I thought if I ever did get into the acting life, I’d want to be part of a comedy.” 

You only listen partially, still heavily distracted by Arthur’s hand on your knee. He acts as though the two of you have been together for some time. How badly you wish it were so. Figuring that you’re already here and you’d be lying if you said you never pretended to do this, you slide your hand over his and lean onto his shoulder. It surprises you when Arthur gently kisses the top of your head. 

After Hosea finishes telling his story of his failed career as an actor, Javier picks up a tune with his guitar again. You recognize it because you’ve heard him play the song in the game. The others quickly join in singing, Arthur included. 

“I ain’t got no father to buy the clothes I wear. I’m a poor lonesome cowboy. Poor lonesome cowboy; I’m a poor lonesome cowboy.” 

You listen as they sing, feeling the verberations of Arthur’s voice through his shoulder as you continue leaning on him. For the first time, you feel like you really belong here. The characters from the game seem so real here, you could easily believe they’re real. However, you feel that this whole scenario is merely temporary, as much as you wish it wasn’t. 

When the song is finished, Arthur squeezes your hand again. “Come on, darlin’. Think it’s time we get some sleep.” 

As much as you want to stay and listen to the others, you look up at him and nod, feeling curious about where things will lead if you follow him. He guides you over to his tent and wagon and closes the flaps, giving you some privacy. 

You feel nervous as he turns. Will he try and get you naked in his bed? You hope not. However, when he looks at you, he doesn’t have that hunger in his eye. He smiles softly and then pulls you into a hug. 

“Mm, you been gone too long, darlin’. I’ve missed you.” 

“I’ve missed you too, Arthur. Hmm, you feel nice.” And he does. His warmth soaks into you as his arms create a protective cocoon around you. Your head presses into him and your body molds to his like a puzzle piece. His hand leaves your back and he cups your cheek, guiding you to look at him. His eyes are bright, alive but gentle. His eyes dart down to your lips. Unable to help yourself, you loop your arms around his neck, bringing yourself closer to him. 

Arthur begins bending down, reading your mind. Your heart quickens in your chest, his wild scent flooding your nose. His lips are centimeters from yours, you can feel the heat of his skin. Just as you’re about to press against him, your eyes flash open. 

Arthur’s gone. HIs tent is gone. The sound of the fire and the others singing is nowhere to be heard. You’re lying in your bed, slightly chilly from the early morning. Your heart sinks as you realize that your little journey was no more than a dream. None of it had been real. But it had felt so real. This dream had been different. 

Sighing, you try not to let yourself feel miserable about it. It wouldn’t do you nor anyone else any favors. 

After taking a quick shower and eating some breakfast, you decide to play the game again. Sure, it might be disappointing in comparison to the dream you’ve just had, but this is the best you’re going to be able to get at this point. 

After loading into the game, you look around Arthur, taking in the view of the Heartlands. You’d stopped playing last night with him being not too far from Emerald Ranch. This is one of your favorite places on the map because of how real it looks. You try not to give into the temptation to look at Arthur, but your resolve doesn’t last long. 

You whirl the camera around to look at Arthur. You expect him to just stare into the distance like normal. You did not expect him to suddenly stare straight at you and blink as though he can see you. Just as you’re processing what you saw, he suddenly smiles and tips his hat. “Hey, sweetheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am open to constructive criticism! If you feel like I could be doing better, tell me! I want to improve my craft.


	114. Arthur as a father - Christmas special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Tumblr, I participated in a Red Dead secret Santa. The user, who I won't mention here, asked:   
> Arthur x fem!reader or Charles x fem!reader, can be NSFW but doesn't have to be. SFW option: Wholesome papa Arthur or papa Charles that's Christmas themed. Or modern au of Arthur and/or John's 1st Christmas with Hosea & Dutch as kids. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Merry Christmas

Arthur sits astride his horse, his fingers aching from the cold. He shaked his hand a little, trying to fend off the ever-pressing chill. Even inside these rabbit-fur gloves, the low temperature bites his skin. Not only that, but his toes are chilled, his nose, his neck and ears. The one thing that keeps him warm is the thought of coming home to you and his two children. 

You’ve been Arthur’s anchor for many years now. Even before the gang fell apart, you were his rock. His best decision was to marry you, and his two favorite days were when his children were born. However, despite having a proper home now where you can live a quiet, peaceful, and most of all safe life, Arthur still has his wandering spirit. He definitely doesn’t stay away for as long of periods as when he was just a gang member. Usually he’s only out a couple of days. 

He’d left three days ago to go “hunting with John”. Or that’s what he told you and the kids. In reality, he’d taken a trip down to Blackwater to do some last minute Christmas shopping. He wanted something special for all three of you, and luckily Blackwater, being the large port for trade that it was, provided just that. After he’d done some shopping, he’d continued wandering to hunt for game, mostly as an excuse to you for being gone so long. 

The wind blows hard again, picking up a cloud of the freshly fallen snow and nearly taking his hat. His hand steadies it, securing it back onto his head and keeping him warm. Oh what he wouldn’t give to be in his warm home with the most important things to him. The steady mare beneath him snorts, seeming just as miserable as him. He pats her neck. “Almost home, girl.”

Around him, the iconic sharp mountains south of Valentine appear out of the fog. They’re covered in a beautiful blanket of snow, thanks to the major winter storm that had come through the night before. He looks up at the darkening sky, feeling even colder at the sight of the thick clouds. 

After another hour of riding, Arthur finally reaches the fork in the trail that will lead him home. Just as the snow begins drifting down in fat flakes again, he sees the lights of his cabin. His heart lifts at the sight, thinking about your face. 

When his mare’s in her stall with some food and a blanket on, he heads to the cabin with the gifts tucked away inside the furs in his arms. The moment he opens the door, he hears a squeal. Smiling, he drops his load on the floor and bends down to pick his five year old daughter up. 

“Papa!” she huffs in his face. She pokes his red nose. “Cold, papa.” 

“Yep, I’m cold, darlin’.” 

“I get a blanket, papa,” she says and he puts her down, chuckling as her short legs carry her off. His eyes immediately find you. His entire body warms at the sight of you coming over to him to greet him with a kiss. He returns it enthusiastically, loving the feeling of you in his arms again, right where you belong. 

“Where’s my boah?” he asks gently when you pull away. 

As though on queue, the two year old comes toddling out. He’s carrying his stuffed horse, his eyes the same color as yours nearly hidden under his mop of dirty blond hair. “Pa!” he hollers at seeing Arthur. Once again, he bends down to pick up his son. 

“Hey son. You been good for your mama?”

“Oh I don’t know about that,” you tease, patting Arthur’s back as you go over to the stove to pull dinner off. 

Smiling, Arthur puts his son down and then takes off his winter gear before helping you pull out the dishes. 

“Mm, smells so good, darlin’,” he says, looking at the meal before him. He’s just glad he got home in enough time to eat with his family. “So, how was our little girl?”

You sigh a bit. Your daughter has always been a daddy’s girl and when Arthur leaves, she can be a downright nightmare. She pouts a lot, but the likelihood of her throwing a tantrum multiplies by ten. “She’s… well, you know how she is.” 

Arthur smiles and decides to go and find her. After all, wasn’t she getting him a blanket? He goes to her room that she shares with her brother and finds her laying in bed on her favorite blanket. She instantly grins when she sees him and he knows she’s been waiting for him to come fetch her. 

“Come on, baby. You gonna come eat?”

“I have a blanket, papa.” 

He chuckles and picks her up, her blanket still clutched to her. She instantly lays her head on his chest. He loves how cuddly she is with him. He remembers briefly how when she was about a year old, she’d gotten sick. Both you and him were so scared she’d die, and Arthur spent many nights with her tucked against his chest as he sat in a rocking chair by the fire, trying to keep her alive. Ever since then, she’d been his biggest fan. 

When he walks out with her in his arms, you smile again and the four of you sit down to eat. Arthur silently says a thank you to whomever might be listening that he got home tonight. After all, tomorrow is Christmas Eve. He wouldn’t miss spending it with his family for anything in the world. 

The next day is spent in some chaos. You and Arthur always clean the house from top to bottom during the day of Christmas Eve, hampered by your two kids. Although your daughter tries to help, she’s only five. Plus it’s Christmas, which means she’s more hyper than if you’d let her drink some of your morning coffee. Her brother isn’t much better, and being two he’s as destructive as a tornado. However, you and Arthur manage to keep them mostly in check. It’s still a relief when night comes and you can finally sit down to eat dinner. 

Arthur always catches a wild turkey for Christmas Eve dinner and this year is no exception. If Arthur prides himself on anything, it’s his ability to take care of his family. He sometimes regrets not giving the same attention to Eliza and Isaac when they were alive, but he’s grown a lot since they died. When the gang fell apart, it really shook his world but when you stuck by his side he knew he’d die for you. 

Arthur sits down at the table, sighing as he prepares to carve the turkey. You’ve done your best to create a beautiful dinner; Arthur grabs your hand and tells you it looks wonderful (although he’s sure the potatoes have a little more garlic than needed). Luckily your kids are sitting relatively quiet, although it’s clear they’re jittery. 

After stuffing yourselves, Arthur does what he’s done every year since you began your family and sits down in his chair. His daughter immediately crawls into his lap, a book in her hand. 

“Papa, here’s the book,” she says, handing it to him and then curling into him. He chuckles and opens the book. He reads this every year on Christmas Eve after dinner. You sit in another chair with your son on your lap. He’s clutching his stuffed horse again, but he’s got his wooden cowboy that Arthur made him for Christmas last year. As Arthur begins to read, your son plays with his toys, thankfully quietly. 

You love listening to Arthur read, how the words come alive with his deep tones. You love watching him even more right now with his daughter tucked against him. He’s been such a blessing as a husband. Never have you had to worry about how ends would meet, about food being on the table, about your children’s safety and it’s because of his efforts. 

When Arthur finishes reading, he closes the book and his daughter yawns. “Hey, why you goin’ to sleep? We ain’t done yet, baby. Ya need your Eve gift.” 

Immediately she perks up and hops off his lap. “Papa! Go get it!” 

He chuckles and stands up, and so do you. He kisses you briefly before heading outside into the darkness. It’s traditional for your kids every year to get new pajamas and a new story book before bedtime. 

After a few minutes, he comes back in with two packages, similarly sized. Your daughter immediately squeals with excitement, but your son runs over and grabs his leg. “Pa! Up, up!” He gestures for Arthur to pick him up. 

“A’right, gimme a second, boah. Ya gotta open your present first.” 

He hands the kids their gifts and they immediately rip into them. His daughter giggles when she sees the pretty little night dress of her favorite color, while the boy inspects his new boy’s union suit. He’s young enough to not really understand the tradition yet, so he’s a little disappointed. However, he sees the children’s book and gets excited. Although he can’t read yet, he loves stories. 

After the kids have opened their present, Arthur puts his arm around you. “A’right kids. Who can get dressed in their new pajamas first?” 

Your daughter stands up, giggling madly. “Me! Me!” She books it into her arm, closely followed by her brother, although his stubby legs greatly hamper his speed. 

When the kids are in their room getting dressed, Arthur grabs your shoulders and turns you to face him. He bends down and kisses you deeply. His behavior tells you that, if the kids were already in bed, he’d be laying you down near the fire and making sweet love to you. It’s all you want as well, but too soon the kids’ door opens and your daughter comes bustling out in her new PJ’s, followed by her pouting brother. It’s obvious who finished dressing first. 

Arthur rewards both of them, telling them how good they are. He then tells them it's time to read one of their stories for bed and that the sooner they go to sleep, the sooner they get presents. You follow them all into the kids’ room and watch as Arthur sits down on your son’s bed. His daughter, as always, crawls into his lap as he reads one of their new books. It’s expected when he finishes, they both argue to him to read the other one. If it hadn’t been Christmas Eve, he probably would’ve said no, but tonight’s different. 

By the time he’s done reading, both kids are drifting off. He stands up and lays his daughter in bed, pulls the covers over her and kisses her head. After, he does the same for his son. When he’s done, you go in and say your good nights and give kisses as well. 

After both kids are put down, you and Arthur clean up the house and then lay out the kids’ presents for the morning. Without a doubt, your daughter will come out of her room in the middle of the night to gaze at them to make sure they’ve shown up. You don’t mind though, she never opens them until morning when you and Arthur have woken. 

When everything’s done, Arthur pulls you into a one-armed hug and gives you a squeeze. “Come on, beautiful. We got a long day tomorrow.” 

With a yawn, you nod and let him guide you to your bedroom. Once there, you begin pulling out your nightgown to change. Arthur’s hands are suddenly on you and he’s kissing your shoulder from behind. 

“You ain’t gonna need that now, darlin’. I’m gonna keep you warm all night.” 

Sighing, you let Arthur slip your clothes off and begin touching you. With surprising speed and strength, he picks you up and tosses you onto the bed. Giggling, you watch him crawl over your naked body. With a wicked grin, you can tell exactly what he’s going to do.

“Can I give you my gift early?” he says, but he doesn’t wait for you to respond. Sighing in the pleasure of his touches and kisses, you know it’s going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated! Even if you just wanna stop by and say hi


	115. Protective Dad Arthur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request from AO3 user: arthur dealing with micah after he sees him being a creep and harassing his teenage daughter. I know that sounds dumb but i just love protective and angry arthur (that kind of angry from him feeds my soul)

Everyone knows that Arthur is the ultimate definition of protective. He’ll put himself between a bullet and any of the girls in camp. With you, he’d do even more. However, none of that comes close to what he’ll do for his daughter. Whatever she asks of him, he’ll do his best to find a way to make it happen. 

When it comes to keeping her safe, no one dares to mess with Arthur’s daughter. Not in camp, not in the town camp is closest to. A man had once tried just flirting with her in town once. She’d politely asked him to stop but he hadn’t taken the hint. Arthur had walked in and seen not long after. The man ended up with a broken nose and shattered cheekbone. No one harrasses Arthur’s daughter. 

Which is potentially what drove Micah to try. 

Micah is well known for ruffling everyone’s feathers. Even Dutch’s on occasion, but only when Micah is feeling rather confident. But Arthur is his favorite person to upset. Micah has tried to get to him by antagonizing him, but Arthur usually would just tell him to stuff it and move on. 

Micah has tried bothering you to irritate Arthur, but you were too good at handling yourself. Arthur would usually watch just in case he needed to step in, but he personally found it incredibly sexy how you’d whip around to Micah and verbally attack him. It didn’t take long for Micah to realize that to make you mad would end up in getting his ass whipped. The honest truth is that Micah is scared of what you’re capable of if he really pissed you off. 

So that left one last resource to bother Arthur. His teenage daughter. You and Arthur have been together for longer than she’s been alive. If it had been modern day, you’d be described as high school sweethearts. You’d gotten pregnant when you were 19. While it was difficult for both you and Arthur to be parents at such a young age, you couldn’t ask for a better father. 

Arthur says that your daughter is a miniature version of you, except she has his eyes, but you see so much of him in her to believe that. She’s strong, she’s had to be with this life. You and Arthur had debated at first of breaking out of the gang when she was little as the life really wasn’t good for a child, but the problem was that both you and Arthur were too loyal to leave. However she toughed it out and turned out to be a relatively average girl. You couldn’t be more proud. 

It’s been especially tough for her these past few months, but it has been for everyone. Blackwater changed everything. You have to give Abigail credit, if your daughter was as young as Jack is, you would’ve tried convincing Arthur to leave. Then again maybe not. After all, you have just as big of a bounty on your head as he does. But it doesn’t change the fact that right now, things are tougher than ever. Especially now that Sean’s dead. 

You’ve lived in a lot of unlikable places, mostly out west. Shady Belle is probably one of the worst you’ve been in. It’s hot and muggy all the time. You prefer the dry heat of the desert. At least your clothes dry out there. Not only that, but out in the west, you don’t have to be afraid of the water for the most part. Here, monsters dwell beneath the surface. 

Micah has been getting more and more cocky these last few weeks. You haven’t liked it as it seems like he’s getting more under Dutch’s skin, but you’re sure Dutch will wise up. After all, he has Hosea to help him and Hosea surely doesn’t like Micah. 

Arthur has been getting slightly suspicious of Micah lately too, but he’s been so busy running around to really do much. Your poor husband. You’ve done everything you can to help him, but there’s no denying that most of the camp rests on his shoulders. 

It’s a few days after Jack has been returned. You’ve insisted to Arthur that he stay in camp for a while as he’s been running around like crazy since Jack went missing. It’s clear he’s exhausted. It’s a good thing too because Micah has been keeping his eye on your daughter, and not in a good way. 

Micah really is growing too confident out here. He’s never dared bothering your daughter before because you and Arthur are the people he’s frightened of getting truly angry. However, it’s almost like he’s trying to absolve that. 

The first few days, Micah has tried to tease her but subtly so that you wouldn’t stab him. He knows that unlike Arthur, you won’t care about keeping the peace within the gang if someone really makes you mad. You’re easier to control when Arthur is around as he seems to be the only person who can calm you down. 

Now that Arthur is here and taking a break, Micah has been much more confident. There was one day when your daughter had been reading in the gazebo. Micah had gone over to her and tried to flirt with her. It was clear she was creeped out, but being a teenager she didn’t really know how to push him away. Arthur had seen her face though and he’d marched over. 

“You leave my daughter alone, you creepy bastard,” he’d growled inches from Micah’s face.

“Relax, big man, I’m just having a friendly word with her.” 

“I catch you near her again, I’ll put a bullet in your head.” 

Micah wasn’t foolish enough to stick around then, though it did make him chuckle (mostly he did it to try and continue bothering Arthur). However, he’s been continuing to do things like this. You certainly haven’t liked the way he looks at your daughter. Of course he tries to do it when he thinks you can’t see, but certainly when Arthur can. 

You’re standing next to Pearson, listening to Hosea talk about the potentials of Saint Dennis. Arthur’s over next to the fire, talking with John. Just as you’re about to go over to him and talk about things, you see your daughter running into camp, tears streaking down her cheeks. She’s sobbing. Arthur stands up and walks briskly over to her. 

“Sweetheart, what-” he starts.

“Micah, papa! He… he tried to touch me!” she sobs into his shirt. 

His face immediately goes red, so does your vision. “That son of a bitch!” you holler. You’re about to stomp over to the edge of camp where that bastard is. Arthur holds out a hand and stops you, his other arm wrapped tightly around his daughter. 

“Let me handle this, darlin’. I ain’t given’ that bastard any more reason to hurt my family.” Normally you’d ignore him and go marching off, but something in his eyes tells you to listen. It’s that look you’ve seen only once or twice, but it’s the look that even made you nervous in the past. It’s the look he reserves for only those who he truly plans to kill. 

He holds onto his daughter for a few more seconds, trying to calm her down. Then he gently pries her off of him and guides him over to you. “Stay with your mama, okay? I’m going to take care of things, sweetheart.” He kisses the top of her head and then pats your shoulder. You nod and fold your arms around your girl. That look comes back to Arthur and then he turns away, marching over to where Micah is.

“Come on, honey,” you say to your daughter. You guide her over to the barrel of water near Pearson’s wagon to get her a drink to calm her down. If you weren’t so confident in Arthur’s ability to protect his family, you’d be pulling out your revolver and shooting that asshole right now, but you know you don’t need to. 

Arthur’s marching over to where Micah was last seen. As he passes his horse, he spots his repeater. It won’t be needed, not for this. He’d prefer to do it with his bare hands. Micah has been a growing problem that he’s tolerated, but he will not accept that man putting his hands on his little girl. 

He reaches the spot his daughter was, but of course no one is there. After looking around, he spots Micah standing near the river on the outskirts of camp. Good, it will make cleaning up his corpse easier. 

As Arthur stomps over to him, Micah turns around and gives him a cocky grin. “Morgan, what are y-” He’s interrupted by Arthur’s fist slamming into his face, breaking his nose. As Micah buckles down, clutching his bleeding nose, Arthur grabs his shoulders and thrusts his knee into his gut. 

“You put your filthy hands on my daughter!” Arthur roars as he continues to beat Micah to a pulp. Micah tries to fight him off, but he’d been caught off guard by Arthur’s ferocity. 

“I didn’t do nothing to your daughter!” he howls as Arthur kicks him. “She’s lying!” 

“Bullshit! You been harassing her for days!” 

Arthur kicks and punches him a few more times before he straightens up and pulls out his revolver, standing over Micah. The man below him puts up his hands, trying to make Arthur see reason. 

“You ain’t gonna kill me, Morgan. You can’t. Dutch would… would never allow it.” He spits blood from his mouth. 

“Oh Dutch ain’t got nothin’ to do with this, you creepy bastard. No one touches my daughter and gets away with it.” 

Micah tries to chuckle. “Dutch ain’t gonna like you shooting someone in camp.”

Arthur smirks at him and puts his revolver back. “Oh I wasn’t plannin’ on shootin’ ya, Micah. Just wanted to see you squirm. Nah, you ain’t worth wastin’ a bullet on. But don’t mean I ain’t gonna kill ya.” 

Arthur kicks Micah again to keep him on the ground, then he kneels onto his chest and wraps his hands around Micah’s throat. Arthur rarely likes watching people die, he hates seeing their blood on his hands. But Micah is different. Micah personally wronged him and his family. He will not tolerate anyone touching the most precious thing in his life. 

After a few moments, Micah finally lies still and Arthur releases his grip on him. Arthur stares into his glassy eyes. “That’s for my daughter, you son of a bitch.” He then drags the body into the river, not wanting it to be seen anymore. 

As he walks back into camp, massaging his tired fingers, your daughter breaks out of your grasp and runs over to him, burying herself into his chest as his arms wrap around her. 

“Papa,” she sniffles into his shirt. 

“You’re okay, pumpkin. That bastard ain’t gonna bother you anymore.” He knows, as he holds onto his daughter, that he will have to go and explain things to Dutch. He’ll do that later though. All he wants to do is take care of his child. You can’t help but smile. Arthur doesn’t usually cuddle with you in camp, mostly in thanks to the teasing from other people saying he’s a big softy, but he’s never pulled back from cuddling with his girl. He’s proud to show people how much he loves her. You walk over and wrap your arms around her as well, pinning her between you and Arthur. One of his hands slides over your side, showing you how much he cares about his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for my long absence from this series! Things have been psychotic in my personal life and I just haven't had the time or energy to write. But please, feel free to leave comments! They really do help motivate me!


	116. “They’re going to love you, don’t worry!”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: “They’re going to love you, don’t worry!” With Arthur/reader? He’s introducing her/them to the gang for the first time 🥺 ilysm

You fidget with your hands. This feels a bit too soon, and Arthur even admitted it himself. But he also pointed out, for the third time, that it’s the best option for you at this moment. After all, you’ve nowhere to go now. Arthur’s gang is the safest place for an outlaw like you. 

You and Arthur have been dating for a few months now. When you’d first met, you had an honest job of being a laundress. It didn’t make the best money, but it supported you for the most part. Then you met Arthur, and things started to change for the better. 

Before meeting Arthur, you were a bit of a doormat with people. You had another boyfriend at the time and you let him use you, take your money to buy himself drinks. Once you even caught him sleeping with a saloon girl and found he’d used money he borrowed from you to pay her. That was when you broke things off, but it left your confidence shattered. 

You’d caught your ex bedding the other girl after you’d met Arthur and perhaps it was somewhat lucky your ex gave you an easy out because you’d been wanting to go out with Arthur. It was only your loyalty to your boyfriend that prevented you from doing so until you caught him cheating. Of course, after breaking up with him, he caught you walking down the street hand in hand with Arthur. He’d grown angry and accused you of cheating, which ended up with him getting punched in the jaw from Arthur. 

However Arthur noticed that you’d let your ex scream things and you hadn’t defended yourself. He wanted you to be more confident, so he started to help you. He began to tell you every time he saw you how strong he thought you were and how beautiful. He also taught you how to fight and shoot a gun. Because of him, you started to stand up to people, including some of the folks in town who thought you were a big softie. 

It wasn’t long before you found out Arthur was an outlaw. He accidentally let it slip when he’d been sleep-talking in your bed one night. You confronted him about it in the morning and he admitted the truth to you. Even though he thought you’d dump him, you ended up loving him even more because it allowed you to be more honest and open with him. 

After this, Arthur started to tell you about his gang and the stories of his past. You loved hearing about the things he’d done, the banks he’d robbed, the held up stages and the trains. Of course, Arthur constantly reminded you it wasn’t easy and every robbery had the potential of his death. You didn’t care though. “Certainly a lot more exciting than this life,” you said, but after a while you decided you were okay living your life. After all, it was much safer and you’re guaranteed a warm bed and a roof.

A few more weeks passed and Arthur brought up the idea of maybe introducing you to his gang. After all, most of them knew he was involved with someone and they wanted to know who. You, however, thought this was a bad idea. Sure, you were getting more confident in yourself, but you didn’t think you’d mount up to a whole gang of outlaws who had much more impressive stories than yourself and were undoubtedly much tougher and braver than you. 

Arthur decided that if you didn’t want to go yet, he wasn’t going to make you. But not long after this, you’d gotten off a late shift at your job. As you were walking to your home, your ex stumbled out of the saloon. He was completely plastered, but he still saw you. 

“There’s that whore! Tossed me on the side of the road for that big bastard!” he’d shouted (and slurred). 

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back. “I didn’t bring a prostitute into my bed while I was with you. More than you can say.” 

“You slut, you’re sleeping with that bastard, aren’t you?” 

Your temper spiked at this. Even after all this time, your ex still thought he owned you. “Yeah, and it’s been great! At least he satisfies me!” 

“You bitch! I’ma kill you!” 

You knew your ex was drunk and that he wouldn’t remember anything he’d said in the morning, but his threat didn’t go unnoticed. He’d threatened to kill you multiple times in your relationship and most of the time, he’d been sober. A small crowd had gathered to watch, but you didn’t notice them. 

Your ex reached for his pistol, and so you whipped yours out and pulled the trigger before he had the chance. Thanks to Arthur’s teaching, your bullet met its target in your ex’s chest. He grunted and then fell forward, dead before he hit the ground. 

Just as you were holstering your pistol, the sheriff ran out and saw. Your heart dropped. Your ex was his nephew, and there was absolutely no doubt you’d killed him. Before the sheriff or his men could grab you, you ran. You went to your home and packed up the essentials, then you saddled up your horse and rode away. 

A few days later, you happened to meet with Arthur in Valentine. He’d told you he visited fairly often as it was closest to camp. Once you were with him, you tearfully explained your predicament. 

“It’s okay, darlin’,” he said, pulling you into a protective hug. He then told you that he wanted you to come to his camp where you would be protected. 

That’s where you are now. Walking slowly up the trail on your horse, you can’t help but feel slightly panicked. You don’t belong here, you’re not tough enough to be an outlaw. 

“Arthur,” you say, almost pleading. He turns his horse to look back at you. His brow furrows a bit when he sees your face and then he dismounts. Once he’s standing next to your horse, he helps you off. 

“Darlin’, it’ll be okay. You don’t need to worry about nothin’.” 

“But… Arthur, I don’t belong here. From everything you’ve told me about them, they’re so much… tougher and braver than I am. I… I’m just a laundress, Arthur. I could never rob a train or hold up a stage. I’ve never even slept under the stars before. Not like you and the rest of them.”

Arthur sighs and puts his hands on your upper arm. 

“Sweetheart, just because you ain’t never done those things, don’t mean you can’t learn. I promise, it’ll be okay. Some of ‘em can be tough, but long as you don’t let ‘em frighten ya or just laze around, you’ll be fine.” 

You shake your head. “Arthur, they’re not going to like me. Some privileged girl like me. I’m the kind of girl outlaws like y’all hate.”

“Darlin’, they are goin’ to love you. I’m an outlaw and I love you. You don’t need to worry.” He pulls you into a tight hug, letting you burrow your face into his chest. He squeezes your shoulders and then pulls away. 

“Now come on, sweetheart. Please, come meet my family.” 

You swallow and buck up your courage, then nod. Arthur gives you a glowing smile and a small kiss before leading you up to the camp on foot (he’ll get the horses up to camp later). Once in view of camp, you relax, seeing the tents and wagons. For some reason, you’d been under the impression that a gang of outlaws surely would’ve had signs of their crimes laying all over the place. Instead it’s very average for a camp. Not only that, but you see people of all kinds. Even a couple of women and a young boy. Already you feel a little less out of place. 

For the next few hours, you and Arthur are relatively the center of attention, mostly because everyone is so curious about the woman who finally captured Arthur Morgan’s heart without breaking it. You find yourself liking quite a few of them, especially the tall lean man named Hosea and you gravitate towards the woman named Tilly. 

By nightfall, you’ve relaxed considerably. You’re sitting on a log near the main campfire, your hand in Arthur’s. He’s stayed in camp all day, helping out with some of the chores or playing poker. As the man Uncle tells a story around the fire, you lean into Arthur. For the first time since you shot your ex, you feel safe. But then you notice that for the first time in your life, you feel like you belong somewhere. These people around you accept you without judgment. Even when you admitted you were a laundress, none of them made you feel bad for it. In fact, the woman Susan Grimshaw said you’d be of use for your experience (of course you’re not entirely sure what she means at this moment).

You’re growing tired as you lean on Arthur’s arm. He squeezes your hand and you look up at him. Despite knowing how shy he can be around other people and you’ve definitely noticed he’s less touchy in this camp, you stretch up and give him a small kiss. He gratefully returns it. When you part, you smile at him.

“Thank you for bringing me, Arthur.” 

“You’re welcome, darlin’. I told ya you’d fit right in.”

Arthur surprises you by sliding his hand over your cheek and bringing you in for a deep kiss. He doesn’t even care who sees. In fact, he hopes they do see so they can know how much he loves you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a kudos, and if you already have, a comment! I love talking to my readers!


	117. Arthur comforts heartbroken reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hope it's not much trouble, but I'd really love a little fic of reader coming back to camp devastated because she got her heart broken and Arthur tries to comfort her. Maybe if he's secretly in love [with] her would work too. I'd appreciate it, thank you! :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one turned out wickedly fluffy, which I am a complete sucker for!

You walk across camp, humming lightly with a small bundle of flowers in your hands. You can’t wait to see your boyfriend, and you hope he’ll appreciate the colorful petals you’re bringing him. Although you don’t notice, there’s a pair of eyes on you. They belong to Arthur of course, he watches you far more than you could know. Not in a predatory way, of course, but he has quietly harbored feelings for you for years. 

He’d never tell you this though. Even if you weren’t involved with another man, he would never bring the shame of his affections to you. He’s too much of a bad man for someone like you, or at least that’s what he tells himself. You’re better off without him, and your boyfriend is likely a good man. 

You mount up after tucking your flowers away and then ride off towards Valentine. The town is still bustling with rumors about the reported train heist in Scarlett Meadows, though you’ve been very careful to not tell anyone that your gang was involved, not even your boyfriend.

When you pull up to his house, you pull out the flowers that you’ve been careful not to crush. Beaming, you walk up to his door and knock. He opens it and gives you a smile. You’re enough of a fool to not notice how fake it is. 

“I brought these for you!” you say, holding up the flowers. “I know they’re your favorite color.” 

“Oh,” he says lightly and takes the flowers. You notice his smile flicker, his eyes almost look disappointed. “Thanks, y/n.” 

He turns and pulls out a vase and puts them in. For the remainder of the day, you stay with your boyfriend. He has you bake a few things, adding just enough physical affection for you to not notice how patronizing he is. 

You do notice a few of his remarks sting. Your boyfriend thinks you have an honest job (he knows nothing of you being an outlaw). He doesn’t approve and he does mention quite often that when the two of you are married, you won’t have to work. Of course, you’ve never really noticed that he implies more that you won’t be allowed to work when you’re married. The idea of being married catches you too off guard to notice his implications. The only thing that has prohibited you from getting married to him is your loyalty to the gang you’ve run with for most of your life. 

The other thing that has stopped you from marrying your boyfriend is your thoughts on Arthur Morgan. He’s helped you so much throughout your life, he’s the person you can always depend on. You’ve quietly held a flame for him too, but you watched him too often chasing after Mary to feel like you ever had a chance with him. He just wasn’t able to notice you the way you wished he would, which is why you’re involved with your boyfriend now. 

Sure, he’s not as attractive, burly or kind as Arthur is, but he’s steady at least and you do love him. There have been times when you’ve wondered if everything between you is just an illusion based on how your boyfriend will talk to you or treat you, but you convince yourself it’s just your perceptions due to low self confidence. 

That night, you leave to return to your gang, despite your boyfriend pleading with you to stay. He’d tried convincing you and he’d made it very clear he’d intended to have sex with you all night. However, you just really didn’t want to. Sure, you’ve slept with him a few times, but the truth was he just didn’t do it for you in the bedroom and sex was a chore. You lied and said you had to get up early for your job. 

“All the more reason to consider marrying me, little woman,” your boyfriend said. “When we’re married, you won’t have to get up early for a job.”

When you returned to camp, you sat near the fire, feeling down about yourself. Lately, you’ve started to feel like shit about yourself when you’ve been with your boyfriend, but you’re sure he loves you. Why would he constantly talk about marriage if he didn’t?

“You okay?” a familiar voice comes up from behind you. You turn and smile at Arthur.

“Yes, just fine,” you say, hiding your feelings. 

Arthur sees right through you, of course. He’s seen your boyfriend with you a couple of times, and every single time he’s had to leave your presence quickly to prevent himself from punching your boyfriend in the jaw. That bastard treats you so poorly and he tries to put a lid on everything that makes you unique, the things that makes Arthur love you. 

You’re aware Arthur doesn’t like your boyfriend just on the fact that he avoids you when you’re with your boyfriend, although you don’t really know why. There’s been a couple of times when Arthur has asked you about why you’re with him and you’ve tried coming up with reasons, but even to you they sound feeble. 

Arthur sighs as he sits next to you. “That boah still treatin’ you right?” he asks, though he already knows the answer. 

“Of course, Arthur. He’s okay.” 

He suppresses another sigh, knowing you’re lying. But the two of you have had a couple of mild arguments about your boyfriend and you essentially told him to leave you alone about it. But he can tell you’re feeling down about yourself, so he settles for simply trying to be with you as a comfort. As much as he wishes to put his arms around you and tell you how amazing he thinks you are, he doesn’t. You made it very clear you’re not interested in him. 

The next day, as you’re finishing your midday chores, Dutch and John gallop into Horseshoe Overlook with Strauss riding behind John. Dutch yells at everyone to start packing things up and that the camp is moving. 

After a few minutes of scrambling, you hear that the gang is moving to the next state, quite a bit further south. This means you’re going to have a harder time seeing your boyfriend. You tell yourself that when the gang has moved and chosen a new spot, you’ll make a trip to go and see him and try to explain the situation that you won’t be able to see him nearly everyday. 

After a couple of days when the gang has settled into Clemen’s Point, you leave early in the morning to go and see him. You just hope he’ll be understanding and you’re going to try and leave out the fact that you’re an outlaw if you can help it. 

You buy a bottle of your boyfriend’s favorite wine. As you walk up to his porch, you feel a little nervous. Maybe a part of you knows this is a bad idea, but you beat that idea down. He loves you, right? Therefore he’ll accept the things you have to do. 

However, when you begin to tell him just that you won’t be able to visit as much due to moving away, he grows very upset. He starts pushing you for more and more reasons as to why you’re moving and finally you just have to come out with it. 

“It’s because I’m an outlaw, okay?!” you holler at him. “And my gang got found out by some Pinkertons, so we have to leave! I promise though, I’ll come and visit when I can.” 

“You’re an outlaw? Wait, your gang is the one that shot up Valentine!” Your boyfriend flies off the hook then. No matter what you say or do, he screams at how horrible you are. He accuses you of being a prostitute, claiming that as an outlaw you have no morality or a sense of honest work. He calls you stupid and weak. 

After he rants at you for a long period, you’re sitting at his kitchen table, sobbing. “Please,” you beg him. “You… you kept talking about how we should be married.” 

“You think I wanna marry you now? I ain’t marrying some trashy outlaw! Now get the fuck out of my house!” He grabs the bottle of wine you bought and then smashes it onto the floor, stating he won’t take anything you brought. You literally run from the house, afraid he might grab his gun and threaten to shoot you. 

You ride back towards camp, unable to stop the tears. You just wish you could disappear. How could you have been so stupid? It’s obvious now how controlling and manipulative your ex was, constantly bringing up the marriage thing. 

When you return to camp, you stay on the outskirts, feeling too crushed and heartbroken to mingle with the others. They all know you were involved with someone and most of them really didn’t like him as he was in Valentine frequently. You don’t want to hear them talk about how much they disliked him, or to see their pitying stares. Worse, you know that in their minds they’ll be thinking exactly the same thing you are, that you were a damn fool to be involved with him. 

As you sit on the log close to the lake, you hear someone approaching from behind. You really wish they’d go away. But then you hear the last person’s voice you want to hear. 

“Somethin’ wrong?” Arthur asks, stopping just behind you. However, you can’t help but look up at him, aware of how messy you must look. 

“I… I’m doin’ okay,” you sniff. 

He sighs and sits next to you. “You don’t look like it. Look like hell. Can ya tell me about it?”

Something about Arthur makes you want to open up. Maybe it’s because you know he’ll always protect you, just like he does with nearly everyone in camp (except Micah), or that he makes it clear he cares about everyone in camp. Or maybe it’s just because you still have a massive crush on him. 

You wipe your cheeks dry and tell Arthur about how your boyfriend dumped you. You end up crying again, but Arthur doesn’t interrupt. He even puts a hand on your knee. Normally you’d question this movement, but it’s comforting. 

“He didn’t hit you, did he?” Arthur asks softly. 

You shake your head, sniffing again. “No, but… I know he thought about it.” 

“Mm, I’m sorry, sweetheart. That’s bad business. But… once this pain has passed, I think you’ll see there’s a lot better out there waitin’ for ya. ‘Sides, now you won’t have to make it a point to go out there and see him. Sounds like he didn’t appreciate ya properly.”

You look up at Arthur and smile a bit. He returns it, his eyes bright. Before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning on his arm. You just want his physical touch. He stiffens when you lean against him, and after a minute, he moves. You begin sinking again, knowing you’ve crossed a line. However, Arthur surprises you by draping his arm around you and bringing you closer to him. Your chest begins to burn with affection and pain as you lay your head on his chest. 

Little do you know, but Arthur’s glad for this excuse to hold you. He’s been wanting to do this for ages. It was only out of respect for you that he didn’t, knowing you were in a relationship and believing he wasn’t worthy of your affections. However, as he holds you close now, it feels so right and so good. You fit against him like a puzzle piece and your heat seeps through his shirt to his skin. 

The two of you stay in that position for sometime. By the time you pull away, you’re no longer crying. In fact, the pain of what happened is greatly lessened. You rub your tired eyes a bit and then look up at him, blushing. 

“Sorry, Arthur. Didn’t mean to inconvenience you like that.” 

“You think you was inconveniencing me, miss? I’d call it the opposite.” He gives you that adorable crooked smile you’ve only seen a handful of times but is your favorite. His hand is still on your back. You look down and see yours is still on his chest. You’ve imagined cuddling with him a hundred times, maybe more, but they never came close to how good the real thing felt. 

Throughout the rest of the night, Arthur stays close to you, wanting to be a comfort and provide himself as your rock when you need it. You’re incredibly grateful, he helps fend off nosy questions from the others. You notice he frequently puts a warm hand on your shoulder or your back, but it helps to make you feel more steady. 

By the time it’s late enough to go to sleep, you realize you don’t want to sleep alone. Arthur leans over and whispers in your ear that you’re welcome to sleep in his cot and he’ll sleep on the ground. As much as it pains you to hear where he’ll be sleeping, you accept his offer. However, when the two of you settle down to sleep, you realize you’d love for nothing more than to have him beside you.

“Arthur?” you whisper, leaning up to see him lying on his ox skin rug. 

“Hmm?” he says in his deep tone. 

“Will you come up here with me?” you say before you have the chance to chicken out. 

Arthur sits up. “You sure?” When you nod, he stands up and slides into the cot next to you. Instantly you slide into the crook of his arm and put your head on his chest. His heart beats hard and a little fast in your ear, but his arm winds over your back. Just as you’re beginning to drift off to sleep, you feel his lips brush against your hairline. Is it possible that he feels something affectionate for you too? You like to think he does. After all, why would he be treating you like this if he didn’t?

That thought warms you up and sends you to sleep. Arthur stays awake for a long while, thinking about you. When you’d told him what your boyfriend had done, it filled him with anger. Maybe he’ll go and pay your ex a visit in a day or two when you’re more settled. But not now. He’s too happy to be here with you draped over him, your head tucked under his chin. He’d be happy to stay with you like this for a thousand years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this was too mushy, but it's a particular soft spot for me. Please leave a kudos or a comment if you liked what you read.


	118. The art of communication -Plus sized Arthur x female reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User asked: I was thinking that maybe Arthur has been gaining some weight (cause max weight Arthur is so valid I'm gonna cry) and it makes him insecure so he pushes reader away and doesn't look at her during sex and she thinks she's the problem and it's angsty but there's a happy ending because it's what everyone deserves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I bumped this one up to the beginning of my queue mostly because I have another request similar to this one, but I want to give that one its own piece. Also this one just immediately sparked ideas, so I had to write it down. Hope you like it!

You glance out the window, your hands shakily kneading the dough for the bread you’re making. Arthur’s outside, hauling some hay over for the horses. It feels like you should be content and happy, but the truth is you don’t. Arthur’s been distant with you lately. You have an idea as to why, and you feel incredibly guilty for it. 

A year ago, you and Arthur abandoned the gang you’d both run with for the majority of your lives. Dutch was beyond reach after Hosea died and when he left Arthur to die in the oil fields, you convinced him that it was time to leave. You’d both been thinking about leaving the gang for a little while before then just because things were not getting better. You desperately wanted to try to have a normal life with Arthur at that point, and when he realized that Dutch was not loyal to him, he finally agreed. 

However the transition was not easy for either of you, but it was especially hard on Arthur. The two of you fled west from Annesburg, and stumbled upon Valentine once again. Enough time had passed that people didn’t connect him with the massacre from months before and you heard that the property Painted Sky just across the river from Horseshoe Overlook was up for sale. 

You looked at the property upon the plateau. It was perfect for you and Arthur with enough space for there to be horses and a garden, so you dared to wander into Blackwater and steal the money that had been lost at the beginning of this whole mess. With that, you paid for the place and moved in. 

For the first several months, you and Arthur couldn’t have been happier. For the most part, you both worked on the property, raising horses and growing vegetables. Sometimes he’d bring in a wild horse, gentle it and sell it. Other times you’d both go and hunt down a bounty, but for the most part your work was honest. 

You didn’t really notice it, but over the past few months, Arthur started to gain weight. A result of no longer needing to be so physical and having the guarantee of steady meals. Especially after you bought a few cook books and started to learn how to cook. He wasn’t the only one to gain weight, though perhaps you were a little less noticeable. 

Now things have changed. He’s so distant and it seems like he just really isn’t interested in you. Last night, things had reached their peak. You’d been making love to him, but he acted like it was more of an obligation, a chore. Not only that, he refused to look at you while he’d been burying himself between your legs. You just wanted to show him how much you loved him, so you’d grabbed his chin and made him look at you.

“Let me see your beautiful eyes, Arthur,” you panted.

His eyebrows crinkled together and his rhythm faltered. You tried not to notice and attempted to get things back rolling, but after a few minutes, he let out his breath and pulled out. 

“I can’t do this,” he said. Then he slid on his pants and walked out the door. He didn’t come back in for the rest of the night. 

His behavior crushed you. Never before had he done that, quit in the middle of the act. You felt so ugly and undesirable when he’d left. After that, you pulled your blanket around yourself and sobbed, not caring that you were completely undressed under it. Arthur didn’t find you attractive anymore, it was obvious. 

Arthur must have slept in the barn or something, you figure. At least that’s what you tell yourself. It’s better than thinking that maybe he ran to Valentine and got himself a woman of the night to finish things with. Of course, you couldn’t help but think that he did, and it broke your heart. 

You can’t say you really blame Arthur for any of this. After all, it was you who pulled him out from the gang, the only family he’d known. He hadn’t wanted to leave, you’d known that, but it was his anger at Dutch that finally convinced him to. You can’t help but wonder if he’d be better off without you, or if maybe you should have left on your own. He’d be happy because of it, surely. Maybe he could have returned to Mary. There’s no doubt in your mind he wouldn’t do to her what he’d done to you last night. 

You sniff, trying not to let it get the better of you. You’ve been debating on whether or not to tell him to go and find his own way out there like he clearly wants to. You’ll stay behind here, take care of things and try to carry on. Maybe you’ll get a dog to replace his companionship, but as far as love goes, you’ll never find another mate. 

The door swings open, making you jump. Quickly you dry your eyes, not wanting Arthur to see your pain. It’s only a matter of time before his anger comes out, after all, and you don’t want to be the reason behind it. 

“Darlin’,” he says so softly you don’t hear him. You’re too busy trying not to break down. He sighs and walks up behind you, trying to muster up the courage to face you. There’s a lot of things he’s regretted in his life, but what he’d done to you last night was unforgivable. After he’d pulled on his pants and left the room, he’d gone to the window of your bedroom and saw you wrapped up in the blanket, your head over your forehead as tears poured down your face. 

Figures you wouldn’t want to talk to him, he thinks. He was always ugly and vile, but now he’s gained all this weight. You must regret choosing to stay with him. Now he’s gotten you tied down to this poor excuse of a home when you used to be so wild and free. How could you not hate him? 

“Sweetheart, I-” he starts.

“It’s okay, Arthur,” you say, sniffing hard and not looking at him. “You can just go, I understand. I just want you happy.” 

This stops him cold. That wasn’t what he was expecting. You care about his happiness? That’s all he wants for you. You deserve someone who will protect you and care for you in the way he only wishes he could. 

“Darlin’, I… I don’t wanna leave. Why you sayin’ I should?”

You sniff again and Arthur realizes you’re crying. It breaks his heart again, especially when the image of you last night flashes through his mind. 

“Because,” you finally say, “I know you’ll be happier, Arthur. You never were one who wanted to put down permanent roots and it’s been cruel of me to make you do so. You belong out there in that wide open country you love. You can be where you want, meet more interesting people. Find someone you love proper.” 

“Honey,” he says softly. He can’t help but slide his hand up your back and to his shoulder. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about but… you’re the only girl I could ever love. I’m sorry about last night. I just… I didn’t wanna burden ya anymore.” 

“Burden me?” you finally turn your face to his, tears marking your cheeks. “How could you burden me, Arthur?”

He sighs, wishing he could just pull you into his arms. But he won’t, surely you’d be angry. He hates seeing you cry though, especially when he’s the reason why. You have the brightest smile, in his mind, and when you cry, he feels like his entire world rains. 

“Well,” he grunts a little, “how could I not? I mean, look at me. I always been a mean, miserable, ugly bastard. Now I gettin’ all this weight to go with it. Don’t tell me you like all this.” He gestures to himself. 

You look down at him and then back up to his face. “Arthur, do… do you think I couldn’t love you because you’ve put on some weight? I’ve done the same thing.” 

“Not really, darlin’. But… when we was with the gang, I may have been ugly but at least I was strong and burly.” 

You can’t help but chuckle a little, but then you do something that makes his heart ache with warmth. You put your hand on his cheek and your watery eyes glue to his. “Arthur, a year ago when you were ‘strong and burly’, I didn’t think I could love you anymore. But now… my love for you then pales, laughably so even.” 

Arthur puts his hand over yours and squeezes. “So you don’t really want me to leave, do ya? Because the truth is, I like it here. Maybe a little too much.” 

You smile again and take a step closer to him. “No, Arthur. I never want you to leave, not ever. When we bought this place, I was hoping more than anything we could build a long life together, maybe even start a family.” 

His eyes crinkle in the corners the way they do when he’s real happy. “Darlin’, nothin’ would make me happier than to do that. If… If I ain’t too fat for you. I’ll try and lose the weight.”

“Arthur, you don’t have to do that. To be honest, I kind of like it. You have a little give now when we’re being intimate. It’s nice.” 

He bends down and kisses you, his arms wrapping around you. You press your body hard against him, wanting him to know how much you love him, body and all. After a few moments, he pulls away but whispers in your ear.

“How about you and I go in that bedroom, do what we tried last night proper? Maybe we can try startin’ that family you want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay folks, I need your opinion on something again. I am thinking about maybe doing another long chapter fic like Second Chances but doing it differently. Obviously different main character, but still involved with Arthur. I've got some different ideas that didn't make it into Second Chances and I'd like to try and make this one better. It probs won't be for a while because I've only just started thinking about writing one, but will you wonderful, faithful readers give me your thoughts? Would you want something like that, or not? Please be honest, I'm completely open to constructive criticism.


	119. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Since requests are open just thought I’d pop in and ask: please do something with Arthur arriving at Lakay while reader thought he was dead. Like super angsty/fluffy 🥺

Arthur crumples the letter from Sadie into his pocket, his mind set. It’s no surprise Shady Belle is empty, he expected no less. Not after that whole mess in Saint Denise with the Pinkertons. He won’t even let himself think of Hosea or Lenny. It’s too much. 

However he would be lying if he said he didn’t want to find you here. You’ve been his rock and anchor for some time now and he’d dreamed of coming back to the safety of your arms all that time in Guarma. All that time, he found comfort in picturing your face, feeling your body, remembering your scent. 

He wonders why you aren’t here. Surely you’d stay behind, knowing he was too tough to die, right? Then his questions as to your presence is answered when four Pinkertons come. As he hides and listens to them chat for a moment, it’s obvious they believe this old manor belonged to this gang and they’ve visited everyday since the failed heist. 

As they conveniently spread out, allowing Arthur to take them out silently one by one, Arthur knows now why you didn’t stay behind and he’s glad you didn’t. If you’d ended up in jail or worse because of your devotion for him, he wouldn’t know what to do.

He mounts up onto the black and white paint he’d stolen from Van Horn, his face resolute. He’s going to go and find this Lakay, find you. Of course, his mind is heavy with the potentially deteriorating state of Dutch, but maybe back here in the states he will return. But Arthur will focus on that later. Right now, all he wants to focus on is getting back to you. 

************************************************************

The pier beneath your thighs is sending your legs into uncomfortable fits of numbness, but you don’t care. It’s easier to focus on the physical discomforts rather than what’s going on in your heart. Under your hand lies the worn out newspaper article you’d scrounged up from Saint Denise, detailing the facts of the boat your gang, your partner, had snuck onto after the heist and had later sunk. There’s a lot of uncertainties about the heist and the future of the gang, but one thing you know is that Arthur Morgan, your Arthur, is dead. 

Tears well up in your eyes once again as you dwell on the fact that you’ll never see him again. As you reach up to wipe them dry, though it seems pointless, you hear the stomping on the planks that heralds the coming of Grimshaw. Sure enough, she snarls from above and behind you. 

“You need to get yourself together, miss!” she snarls. Although you can’t see her, you know her hands are on her hips. It’s only because of your current state of mind and her own worry that prevents her from grabbing your ear and tossing you into the middle of camp. “There’s work to be done!” 

“Just go away,” you mumble, just loud enough for her to hear. 

“I’ve just about had it with this mopin’, miss! You ain’t the only one who’s lost someone, we all have! However, the rest of us are workin’! Pearson could use some help, I wanna see you at his table in five minutes!” 

With that, she marches away. You sigh, not feeling anything when it comes to her. You’re honestly surprised she hasn’t gotten nastier by this point. After all, you’ve kept yourself distant from the others since arriving to this shithole of a town. 

When Sadie and Charles announced back at Shady Belle that the gang needed to move, you were determined to stay at the manor. Even after it was pointed out that the Pinkertons would search any location within a mile radius of the city for potential hideouts, you were going to stay. You had to, you felt. You knew Arthur had to be alive and would come back to you. It was all you could believe. 

But you were forced to leave with the rest of the gang, done by Charles and Grimshaw manhandling you into one of the wagons as they fled the manor. You screamed and thrashed for a good portion of the way until you wore yourself out. Luckily for you, most of the others understood your tantrum and your determination to stay. It was the help you got from Sadie that helped calm you down when you first arrived at Lakay. She explained her coded letter and how Arthur was a smart man, he’d find a way to get back to you. 

That was until you found the newspaper announcing the boat had sunk and that there were no expected survivors. After you found the article, you distanced yourself from the gang in your grief. You stopped helping around the gang and would spend hours on this pier attached to the boathouse. Most of the others were too nervous to come onto it because of its poor condition and the threat of gators below, but you didn’t really care. There wasn’t much you cared about anymore. Losing Hosea was hard enough, but losing Arthur was too much. 

You know you can’t stay like this forever. Arthur wouldn’t want this for you. Maybe moving around, being productive will help you feel better, you think. Of course, you don’t have a lot of energy, but you’re determined to try. You stand up, and honestly that’s about as much as you can do. Already the thought of just going down the pier seems to be too difficult. 

You lean onto the handrail, trying to muster up the strength to actually do things. It’s not clear how long you stand there, but then you hear someone walking up from behind you. Crap, Grimshaw has come back. You wouldn’t be surprised if she gets physical this time. You don’t notice that the footsteps are slower and heavier than Grimshaw’s. 

You slowly straighten up as the footsteps stop right behind you. Suddenly you feel strong, familiar arms wrap around you, his chin resting on your shoulder. You fold your arms on top of his. It hasn’t been unusual for you to feel Arthur’s presence recently, his arms around you. Usually it’s at night when you’re trying and failing to sleep, but on occasion you’ll feel him in the middle of the day, like today. 

Your throat closes up, signalling you’re about to break down. God, you miss him so much. However, he seems to be warmer this time, more firm. Maybe you’re just more desperate to feel him. 

The hallucination tightens his grip around you and then he sighs. He sighs? Never has your hallucination of him made a sound. Then you feel him kiss your neck so gently. “Hey, darlin’.” 

Your eyes widen. You’ve been so desperate to hear that voice again. That’s when you rip around in his arms, your eyes landing on him. Tears instantly spark in your eyes and you give him a small smile, the first time you’ve smiled since the failed heist. 

“Arthur?” you whisper, your palm going to his scruffy cheek. His face is red and burnt, his hair and beard messy and in need of a good wash and trim. He smells strongly of salt, gunpowder and body odor. It’s clear that whatever he’s been through has been extremely difficult. However, his eyes haven’t changed, though they’re a little more watery than normal. 

“It’s me, darlin’. I told ya, I’d always come back for ya.” 

You can’t help but openly sob when he says that. His arms tighten more around you, bringing you closer and encouraging you to curl into him. His hand tangles into your hair, pressing your face to his chest. 

“It’s okay, darlin’. It’s all gonna be okay.” 

He kisses your head and you finally pull just enough away from him so you can kiss his chapped lips. When he pulls away, his thumb comes up to wipe your cheek dry. 

“You look tired, darlin’. You been sleepin’?” 

“N-not really,” you mumble, sniffing. You know he always gets bothered when you don’t take care of yourself. “But I could say the same about you.” 

He smiles a bit, a soft laugh rumbling through his chest. It warms your own. He kisses you again and then he suggests that once the others return, you and he will go into town to take a bath, but for now he suggests you go and sleep. You take his hand and kiss is his calloused fingers. “Only if you’re with me.” 

He agrees, so you lead him into the boathouse. You don’t want to go to the main house where your bedroll is. It’s too cramped in there and people bicker too often for you to relax. Inside the boathouse though, you’ve set up a hammock. Arthur looks at the hammock, then he takes off his boots and falls into it. 

There really isn’t space for a second person, but you don’t care. You climb in and settle on top of him, which he seems to be fine with. His arms wrap around you again and he kisses the top of your head, one leg draped over the edge so he can gently push the hammock from side to side, slowly lulling you to sleep. 

As you drift off, you listen to his strong, steady heartbeat. As you listen to his heart, you notice his breath is a bit more ragged than usual. Maybe he’s just tired or exhausted. You run your hand over his chest, trying to relax him. The last thing you think before finally falling asleep is that the worst is finally behind you. The only direction you can go from here is up.


End file.
